


Damned If I Do

by Anika_Ann



Series: Damned [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fogwell's, Friendship, Identity Porn, Light Angst, Nelson and Murdock, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 01, Swearing, Unreliable Narrator, Very Inaccurate Description Of New York City Or Any City Really, Vigilantism, and uses lyrics out of context, because the population of NYC is pretty much the population of my homeland, black pajama forever, briefest mention of the Avengers, but often in a different language, horns what horns, less brief mention of the Avengers, who doesn't know a thing about coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 121,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann
Summary: Dropping out of college after two years and an unpleasant break-up, Vera needs a change – so when she gets an opportunity to spend some time in US, she doesn’t hesitate and grab it firmly. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she decided to do so, but gaining a friend whose middle name should be tornado and meeting this blind guy, who comes to a gym after hours, wasn’t on her list. To be honest, an encounter with a masked vigilante wasn’t there either.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. My first Daredevil (it might not seem like it in the few following chapters, but we’ll get there, I swear) fanfiction. It’s also my first fic in like 5 years and on top of that my very first English-written story and let me tell you, it’s HARD. And SLOW. I apologise for any grammar errors and nonsenses. Damn, how does ANYONE ever write chapter containing 4000 words?!
> 
> If there was anyone who would be willing to read ahead a little and correct my mistakes, I would be incredibly grateful.
> 
> Also, You'll see the very same notes under the newest chapter (over and over again), because they are...stubborn. They never leave. Sorry.

_He’s going to kill me,_ she realized in horror and her frantically beating heart stopped for a second before it sped up even more. She could hear her blood buzzing in her ears.  _If I don’t give him something, I’m dead._

“You are quite loyal, aren’t you? Why is that? Are you more than his ally? His girl toy, maybe? ” He leaned forward, so his face was just inches from hers. He was trying to intimidate her. Like the punches and kicks and the _freaking_ baseball bat in his hand wasn’t intimidating enough. “Or are you’re just plain stupid?“

She closed her eyes. And plead the fifth.

“TELL ME!” he roared and she flinched, new tears appearing on her cheeks.

 _I don’t know!_ she wanted to roar back, but she already told him that. He was just too dumb to actually listen to her.

 _Tell him something! Buy yourself some time! He’s gonna come eventually, right? He always comes._ _If someone cries loud enough, the Devil will hear him._ But would he? Could he even come here? He was always hiding in the shadows of the night. Was it still night? Was it night already? How long had she been here?  She had no idea. There were no windows. Where was she anyway?

He toyed with the bat in his hand, provoking her fear. She didn’t want to give him or the other kidnappers the satisfaction of her screaming. But she wanted to scream. _Badly_.

She was fucking tired. It was cold, her clothes soaking wet, her body shivering, teeth clattering, ears ringing. She almost couldn’t see through her tears and dried lenses. And it hurt. Everything. Every _fucking_ cell in her body hurt like hell. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

She whined when the bat collided with her arm. The pain was unbearable. The chair she was tied to swayed, but didn’t tip over this time. She couldn’t decide if she was glad or not.

He raised the bat again.

“Wait!” she yelped, her eyes squeezed shut, already waiting for the impact. It didn’t come.

“He d-didn’t show m-me hi-hi-his f-fa-face,” she tried to talk, but talking hurt, her jaw hurt, her teeth were still clattering and her throat was so dry she could cry. Oh wait, she _was_ crying.

The thugs shared an unimpressed look and with a sigh the bat was in the air again.

“But-” she squeaked. He stopped in mid-strike, eyebrow raised. “I kn-know his n-n-name.”

For the first time, she realized there was one more man in the room. He was quietly siting in an armchair in the corner of the shady room all along. He rose to his feet and approached her. His voice sounded too sweet and polite.

“Well. Would you like to share with us?” His smile was awfully slimy.

 _He’s damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t._ She wanted to protect him. She wanted to protect herself.

_Krucinál!_

The silent man made a disapproving sound. “And here I thought we were getting somewhere…” He was halfway back to his armchair when he beckoned to the baseball man and the bat collided with her arm again.

She couldn’t help it. She screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the room, her chest vibrating with the sound.

“That’s the spirit!” That _motherfucker_ laughed. The other two just shared a grin. “It talks!”

She was hyperventilating, pain taking over, her vision clouded just like her mind.

Was she trembling because of the pain? Or it was the shiver?  No, her body was probably too tired to warm itself up.

“The name,” he hissed and she wasn’t even sure if he said the words or if she just imagined it.

She sobbed.

“It’s M-M-Mike,” she barely whispered.

“What was it?” The quiet man stopped in his tracks.

“His name,” she tried to force her voice to be more than just a silent move of her trembling lips. She couldn’t make herself lift her head. “His name is _Mike_.”

And then the lights died out.

 


	2. 1) Home, keep hold on my heart (when I try to run away)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you gonna do?”  
> “Ehm…”  
> “Oh, come on! Not even the slightest idea? Are you gonna try another college? Or take a break and return to college then? Or-”  
> “I am not drunk enough for this.”

It started with a break-up.

And really, her reason to run could not be more cliché. Running was something she was good at – not the physical exercise, _god no,_ she hated it – but running away from her problems. Escaping to other worlds – books, TV series, intense music… but this time, she needed a change. A fundamental one.

Dying her hair was necessary – she would have her hair cut, because she was wearing it too long for what felt like an eternity, but she couldn’t make herself to do it. This way it was pretty much maintenance-free and she liked that. So dying it black it was.

Quitting med school was a hard choice – she made it this far after all, two years of her life would come to nothing. Nevertheless, her doubts about her choice of career hadn’t disappear like she had been hoping to. Being a doctor didn’t suit her. It wasn’t her dream. She wasn’t sure _what_ was, but the idea of someone’s life in her hands terrified her, which probably wasn’t a desired feature of a medical practitioner. On top of that, her being a doctor was _his_ dream, after he had failed his own med studies and had chosen career of a financial manager instead. Seriously, why had she even listened to him? Being able to help people was a noble goal, no doubt, however the idea of being a bad doctor felt worse than not being a doctor at all. So quitting it was.

She loved her hometown and family, she really did. Unlike her best friend, who couldn’t wait escaping the boredom of the small town and the family ties that bind, she hadn’t been very happy to leave for college and she had been coming back as often as possible despite the fact that it also meant spending weekends – the rare time they actually could have been together with her boyfriend in Prague alone – with her family and not with the man she had thought might once become her partner for life. She preferred the quiet of the edge of the town to the city noise and it’s traffic lights, the thousands of people, the rush, the constant pulsing. She liked the anonymity though (she had once cried into her phone after she had failed an exam while being on tram - no one had dared to stare or comment for that matter), which was most likely the reason she jumped the opportunity when it opened right in front of her.

\---

She was sitting under the parasol to protect her sensitive skin from the midday sunrays, slightly lost in thoughts. She felt bad for not listening to the conversation of her friends. Last time she checked, they were discussing the hotness of some actor she didn’t know, so it was alright to zone out a little. Or so she thought.

“Verčo!”

She shook her head and turn towards Marky’s voice. Marky was staring at her with one eyebrow raised and an expectant look. Had she asked her something? _Kruci_.

“Sorry. What did you say?” she smiled innocently trying not to feel too guilty.

After all, her heartbreak wasn’t the only reason they came to Anna’s family cabin. It played a huge part in that decision for sure, but throwing her a pity party wasn’t the only reason. They hadn’t seen each other in ages and this was an excuse as good as any.

“What are you gonna do?”

“Ehm…”

“Oh, come on!” Jitka exclaimed and threw her hand in the air to make the phrase even more theatrical. “Not even the slightest idea? Are you gonna try another college? Or take a break and return to college then? Or-”

“I am not drunk enough for this,” she interrupted her rudely.

Marky snorted into her juice.

“Well, a) it’s only midday, it would be kinda sad if you were, I should know. And b) _you_ are never drunk,” remarked Anna and she couldn’t say a word to disprove.

“Might be the root of the trouble,” she sighed and grabbed her _non-alcoholic_ drink. With a super-long curled blue straw. Because _fancy_. “I need the change of environment. And I don’t mean coming here – you’re great and everything, but it’s temporary. Short-term. I am not saying I want to disappear and never come back, but…”

Marky and Anna just hummed in sympathy. Jitka didn’t react. However, she would understand the best. She didn’t go through a bad break-up, no. But the moment she had finished high school, she had packed her briefcase and she had headed to US to visit her aunt. For a _year_. So, yeah. She would understand the best.

“My aunt has a new apartment,” Jitka announced as if she read her thoughts. “Well, kinda.”

“And?” Verča felt like there was a point coming. She wouldn’t get her hopes up – the statement could mean anything – for all she knew, it could be a result of the stream of her consciousness.

“In New York. It’s in an area which was ruined during some terrorist attack a while ago. Low price, she claims it was a good buy, ‘cause the price will raise-“

“But you were in California…?” Marky asked almost shyly, obviously feeling she missed something important. Huh. Verča was confused herself.

“Oh, yeah. Don’t ask me. She apparently has a friend in NY who would take care of it for a fair share.” Jitka pretended to be interested in her nails, but the corners of her lips were twitching.

Verča still couldn’t let herself hope that Jitka was suggesting what she thought she was suggesting. Right?

 _Things happen the way they are meant to happen,_ that was her policy and all that, but surely she wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Jííííťo?” Verča drew her name suggestively and her friend cracked a smile.

“I’ll ask.”

“You’re the best.”

 ---

And suddenly she was sitting on a plane trying to survive an agonizingly long flight.

Well, not suddenly. Obviously. It had taken like twenty calls to Jitka’s aunt to persuade her that Verča was a decent trustworthy person, almost too much effort to explain her own parents that this was exactly what she needed, thousands of promises she would call regularly  (“Are you for real, mum? I’m gonna miss you all too, you know? Sakra! Now I’m crying again! Stop crying, mum!”) and then there had been fighting the city hall. Verča hadn’t understood shit about visa, insurance and all these contracts Jitka’s aunt had sent her because of the flat, but it had kinda helped that she spoke Czech so they could talk like normal people. Verča’s English wasn’t bad – she was able to communicate at some level, pretty good actually, she was heading to the USA, for god’s sake – but she didn’t speak bureaucrat.

It took effort. Sure. But it was worth it, nonetheless. She was sitting at the window and all she could see was the blue of the Atlantic Ocean. She was scared – she had never been so far from her home, _alone_ on top of that. She was ter _r_ ified. And she was also almost vibrating with excitement. A whole year of new experiences was sprawled in front of her and the one and only thing she desired was safe and early landing, since her old mp3 player was dead and she couldn’t let the same happen to her phone for the need of some more music.

She leaned into her seat, folded her glasses (and really, wearing contacts during a long flight would be a bitch, especially since she knew she would doze off) into its case and closed her eyes. One deep breath.

_I’m ready._

Oh, if she only knew…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, it’s definitely DD fanfic, it’s gonna take a while, but we will meet our beloved characters. If you cross any word you don’t understand, it’s most likely a swear word (see _Krucinál_ in prolougue) – I won’t use them often, but they might appear in direct speech of thoughts (Verča/Vera is Czech after all and when you swear, it’s like a reflex, it feels more natural) . I’m trying to figure it out, ‘cause the rest of the story is English including the conversation between girls in this chapter, who should – surprisingly – speak Czech. So, yeah. Sorry if it bothers you. 
> 
> Title from Rhodes – Home


	3. 2) Looking for heaven (find yourself in Hell instead)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera was looking at the piece of paper. It didn’t matter how many times she read it, the address didn't change. She was going to live in Hell’s Kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just suffer through one more chapter. Then at least _something_ will happen. Promise.  
>  And I'm sorry, but I just cant seem to remove the freaking notes from the end of a new chapter - they are meant to be with the first on,e and they just0 _keep moving_. What the hell?

Verča – no, _Vera_ from very this moment, because ‘Verča’ would sound weird around here, she wasn’t in Czechia anymore - was looking at the piece of paper. It didn’t matter how many times she read it, the address didn’t change. She was going to live in Hell’s Kitchen. She didn’t watch cooking shows, but she was ninety-percent sure it was a name of one of those. Could have been worse. At least it was funny.

She finally got off the plane, found her briefcases and put on her contact lenses instead of wearing glasses. Outside the airport building, the sun was high, illuminating the halls through the ceiling made of glass. She found her sunglasses and felt like a real tourist. Where was her guide with an umbrella or flag?

The airport was full of people with stupid signs reading names and nicknames. None of them was waiting for her. The deal was she would text Mrs. Larkin when she would find a cab and they would meet on the given address. She had never hailed a cab in her life. This should be fun.

It wasn’t fun. Everyone was hailing a cab or so it seemed. It took her 15 minutes to realize that she had to yell really loudly to get some attention; way to make girl feel welcomed. Maybe she should have wear short skirt instead of jeans, but she wanted to be able to sit comfortable during the nine hour flight without scandalizing people, sue her. Could anyone sue her for that for real in here? _Šmarja._ Could they?

It hadn’t occurred to her before that she didn’t know much about the laws. The important one was that she could drink alcohol, just in case she decided to throw herself a pity party or something. Or meet new people – she should meet new people somehow, right? Wasn’t it something people went to bars for? She snorted at the idea of her sipping her orange juice with extra-long blue straw and the bartender asking if she wanted at least some vodka in it.

When some driver actually took pity on her, she considered herself lucky. He was a nice black man in his fifties, chatty, asking innocent questions and gave her a considerate smile when she admitted it was her first time in New York and in United States in general. He even named a few buildings they passed, which was nice, although she forget the name the very moment he said it. She appreciated the thought nonetheless. However, when he asked the money, she was tempted to ask him to take her back to the airport and take a bus or something. _Děláš si prdel?_ That was it. She was never, ever, EVER taking a cab again. Her wallet cried. She managed a polite smile when she said goodbye to the driver and made a mental note to herself to look into public transport. How had she missed that before?

The apartment building was unimpressive, ordinary, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It might be a good thing in fact. She counted six floors and crossed her fingers for her apartment not being in the sixth one. Or at least for the building having an elevator, but she honestly doubted that. She checked her mobile phone for messages and missed calls and didn’t find any. She was about to call Mrs. Larkin when someone tapped her shoulder lightly.

She yelped a turn around to find a smiling brown haired woman with an extended hand, the source of the tap.

“Hi. Veronica Machackova?” she asked, smile not leaving her face. Vera liked her instantly. She had a feeling that not all of the people were going to be as nice as her or the taxi driver (although she would be nice too if someone was paying her so much money for a single ride).

“Yeah. _Yes._ That’s me. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Larkin.” Vera extended her hand and returned the smile. The woman had a firm handshake. Honest.

“Likewise. Also, Nina is fine,” she offered and Vera nodded, unsure. It always troubled her, being on the first name basis with someone older than herself (at least five years older that is, which this woman surely was).

“How was the flight?” the woman asked conversationally and without words offered her help with one of Vera’s briefcases. Vera appreciated that as well.

“Long,” she sighed and Mrs. Lar- _Nina_ laughed shortly.   

“No kidding. Long way from Czechia, right? Petra sometimes flies back and she always complains and claims she’s never doing it again. It usually takes her about a year to crack.” It took Vera few moments to realize that she was talking about Jitka’s aunt. Unlike with Nina, Vera wasn’t on the first name basis with her. Which, okay, she didn’t care. It was not like would be meeting her.

Vera tried to gather her thoughts, but she didn’t know how to react anyway. They fell in comfortable silence.

Vera followed Nina to the building and almost cried in relief when they stopped on the second floor. She was right – there was no elevator. Nina unlocked one of the doors in the hall, came in and switched the light on. Vera took a deep breath and stepped into the flat too.

She found herself in a small space with a coat-stand, shoe rack and a cupboard with ceramic bowl – for keys, perhaps; it surprised her, she didn’t expect such thing. Even though Mrs. Falk said the apartment was furnished (it would be a serious problem if it wasn’t - Vera couldn’t exactly afford to buy furniture, let alone if she hadn’t planned on staying longer than about a year), she expected it to be rather plain. But hey, the ceramic bowl didn’t mean anything.

Nina didn’t take her shoes off, so Vera followed her example. It couldn’t hurt. Once she would be alone, she would be totally freeing her feet. There were three other doors. One of them led to the living room/kitchen/study room and another to the bedroom. When she saw the bedroom she was shocked. There was a huge wardrobe and a double bed, which, ok, cool, but what surprised her was the state the bed was in.

“The sheets-” she raised a question and Nina interrupted her.

“Oh. Yeah. I washed them for you. I hope that’s okay? You are not allergic to any detergent, right?” she asked and suddenly she looked almost guilty.

“No. God, no! It’s-“ _amazing, great, unbelieveable,_ “-very considerate of you. You didn’t have to. Thank you.”

“Oh. Hush. I live downstairs. I expected you to be tired and I didn’t know how much you were bringing with you, so…”

Vera decided she loved that woman. She was tired, sure, but she was also buzzing with excitement and she anticipated dealing with nesting and running some errands. She certainly hadn’t expect it would be so easy. 

“It’s amazing. Thanks,” she tried to fill her voice with all the gratitude she felt. Nina, bless her, just gave her another smile.

She showed her a bathroom with a bathtub/shower and decided to leave Vera to home.

“If you need anything, I am on the first floor. I have spare keys in case you lose these – please don’t – and if you need any tips about the neighbourhood, the best places to eat, shop, whatever. You know where to find me. And you have my number. And my husband says I make an excellent coffee, so if you ever want to come over, let me know.”

Vera stared at in awe. “Thank you. Thank you. I… I can’t even tell you how grateful I am. You are the best,” she blurted and stopped herself before she could actually hug this incredible human being. It might scare her. Vera didn’t want that.

“Don’t mention it. See you!” she waved and let herself out.

Vera looked around her new temporary home. It felt a little surreal. Her suitcases were still in the hall where they had left them. She didn’t feel like unpacking yet. She washed her hands, used a bathroom and filled herself a glass she found in one of the kitchen cabinets (it was everything _right here_ , she couldn’t believe it, glasses, mugs, pots, _everything_ ) from a tap. Once she tasted the water, she decided she was not doing it ever again. It tasted like shit, it beat the water in Prague and that said something. It made her strangely happy, when she found the little imperfection. She was sure there would be more. But right now, the terrible taste of water made the whole situation more real. She placed the glass on the counter and sat down on a couch. She kicked off her shoes and snuggled. It felt good.

What was the line? Oh, right. _I think I am gonna like it here._

_\---_

It was a late night when Vera finished unpacking and when she realized that she should have rather go shopping – all she had was a few flapjacks she packed and that wasn’t the best late dinner, but she was out of options - she would slap herself for not getting her priorities straight. It wasn’t just the food – she needed to fill some of the shelves in the bathroom too. She was lucky there was some soap so she could actually take a shower at least.

Vera was glad she texted her mum and her friends right after landing that she was alright and she would let them know more tomorrow - she was exhausted. She set an alarm on her phone nevertheless – tomorrow, she needed to explore Hell’s Kitchen, do some serious shopping and stop by a café. For the past three weeks, she had browsed the net for job offers in the neighbourhood and some café was hiring, because students were quitting their summer jobs and coming back to schools. Vera had sent an email to the manager, but never got the answer - she was just hoping that the position was still open. So alarm it was.

She muffled herself in the covers and tried to fall asleep. Her mind couldn’t seem to stop racing – sleep came in minutes anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Czechia_ is a terrible, terrible word. Personally I preferred The Czech Republic, but apparently we followed the example of our brothers/neighbours Slovaks who live in _Slovakia_. So, here we are. Never mind. I needed to complain. Ignore me. 
> 
> Title inspired by Florence and the Machine – Shake it out


	4. 3) Just like the weather (can’t hold her together)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Really? Did you do no research before moving in here? The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is a freaking ninja in a black mask coming to rescue anyone who cries for help loud enough.”  
> “Like a superhero?”  
> “Nah. More like a vigilante. The Avengers are superheroes.”  
> “The who, now?”

They say that what you dream about the first night in a new place come true. Vera didn’t remember anything but dark and the noise of the city and she couldn’t decide whether it was a good sign or a bad one. When she woke up at 8 a.m. at the sound of her alarm, she didn’t feel rested. The change of a time zone wasn’t pleasant. She forced herself to get up and groaned as she realized that there was no tea she could make. It was going to be a _lovely day._ So flapjack and the terrible water was the only option when it came to her breakfast. It served her right.

Vera opened the huge wardrobe and tried to find something representative. She settled at three-quarter black leggings with a red skirt and her favourite orange blouse. She decided to go to the café first - with GPS on her phone (momentarily only source of the internet, she needed to ask Mrs. Larkin about the wifi in the building later), it wouldn’t be so hard and there was a promise of an overpriced (probably) tea.

As it turned out, it would be an impossible task to find it _without_ GPS – the café was tiny and hidden in a labyrinth of small alleyways, cute little shop with windows instead of walls. She liked its name too – MDDC for My Daily Dose of Caffeine. Bell ringed above her head as she entered the warm space tuned in orange and green.  Few people were standing in the line in front of the counter, two girls serving them with a smile. Vera considered approaching them, but it seemed rude towards the waiting people - she joined the queue instead. Before she reached the counter, other two men appeared behind her. She eyed the panels on the wall and looked for her salvation – she found they served green tea with a vanilla flavour. _Thank god._

“Welcome to MDDC, what can I get you?” girl with suntanned (almost bronze) skin and dark hair asked her with trained phrase and slightly fake smile. She eyed her suspiciously when she ordered tea. _Problem?_  “Here or to go? Name?”

Vera wasn’t caught off guard – she was watching the process several times with the customers in front of her. They said their name, gave the girl money and moved few steps left to the flat surface where their order would be placed (laugh all you want – she didn’t go to any café, ok?)

“Vera, to go” she said simply, paid and moved.

In a minute, her tea was done. “Sorry to bother,” she called after the girl, “but is the bartender position still open?”

The girl turned back to her with what could only be described like an annoyed look and examined her with suspicious eyes. “Hold on. Have customers to serve.” Her voice sounded cold, almost hateful. _Kráva_.

Vera took her tea and stepped aside, determined not to let the girl ruin her day. She almost moaned when she tasted her tea. It tasted like heaven. Freaking overpriced heaven in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen. She didn’t even care whether the hostile girl (who was now smiling at people with smile as fake as Vera’s hair colour) spit in her drink.

Vera was standing there for few minutes, sipping her piece of heaven, when the other girl noticed she wasn’t about to leave. She gave her current customer his daily dose of caffeine and eyed her over the shelf.

“Can I help you?” she asked with a hint of a smile that looked more honest than Ms .Bitch’s one over there. She had short orange hair with a braid on a side and distinctively green eyes. She looked less like a bitch. Frankly, she seemed even nice.

“Hi. Uhm… I was wondering about the position advertised on the internet? The barista? Is it… is it still open? I wrote an e-mail to the manager, but she never answered…”

The girl laughed. “Yeah… she never does. But the position is still open. You’re interested? Let me call her for you.” She obviously didn’t give a shit about _customers to serve_ and headed for the _Staff only_ door. She was back in what seemed like seconds. “Come here.” She gestured in direction of the gate.

Vera happily obeyed and followed her to the door, her cup still in her hand, almost empty now.

“I’m Theresa,” she introduced herself and pointed at her nametag, “but everyone calls me Terri.” She gave her warm smile. Truth to be told, she seemed like she would hug Vera (on anyone, really), knocked the air out of her, apologised for it and did it again at the earliest opportunity. Vera knew she was going to love her.

“I’m Vera. Or Nica.” She considered for a second and then added her brother’s nickname. “Or Mechy. Thanks for that. A lot.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

Vera knocked on the door and loud ‘ _come in’_ was her answer. She did.

The woman couldn’t look more ordinary. And her entrance interview couldn’t be briefer. Mrs. Walker basically asked her name, age, experience with cafés (and wasn’t taken aback when she found out there was none, delighted Vera once had a summer job in a supermarket at least). Then she wanted to know if Vera was okay with Terri easing her in the job and really was she expecting any other answer then yes? She printed out some forms, menu with drink codes (so Vera could study in her free time) and promised her a nametag made as soon as possible. The uniform was promised as well – it would be ready tomorrow, when she would start, around ten a.m. as arriving time would definitely soon enough, the morning rush is over, it was Saturday anyway, so no rush at all. And okay, that was _fast._

As Vera walked out of the door, Terri waved on the other girl. “Taking a break now,” she said and winked at Vera. She didn’t understand what Ms. Bitch replied under her breath, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t exactly polite.

“So? You’re officially my sister in arms?” Terri asked her and walked her into the common space for customers.

“Sure. Mrs. Walker is great. She… uhm-” Vera wasn’t sure how to phrase it. How should she tell her she would have to babysit her?

Terri helped her out. “She assigned me to you, right? Cool. Coming tomorrow?”

Vera was surprised how easy-going she sounded. No, scratch that. She actually wasn’t. “Yeah.”

“So, welcome to the team. Oh and don’t mind Olivia,” she leaned closer and whispered the next words in Vera’s ear, “she’s the bitchiest bitch to ever bitch.” With another wink, she turned and headed back to the counter.

Huh.

\---  
After leaving the café satisfied, Vera wandered. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t exactly the beautiful heart of New York City, neither it was its biggest quarter – despite of the fact, she spend the rest of the morning exploring its streets (and was sure she didn’t see all of it) - shops, restaurants, office buildings, apartment buildings, most of them giving the impression of seeing better days. Some of the windows were broken, plastering flaking, fading paint often covered in graffiti. These walls remembered a lot. There were no fancy skyscrapers (apart from those in the skyline in the background), no shopping centre ( _sakra!)_ and sadly, no fitness centre (however, she passed something called “Fogwell’s gym”, so she made a mental note to ask Mrs. Larkin about that).

Most of people would probably describe the neighbourhood as boring. Vera, the small town girl she was, didn’t mind. What she _did_ mind was the idea of this part of the city at night. She needed to buy a pepper spray at least. Now, the streets seemed busy, crowded. It irritated her - she didn’t see a single bus on her way, which was bad, she would have to walk everywhere - she liked to walk fast and with all those people, it would be next to impossible.

When she crossed something that only could be a supermarket (well, market, anyway, no super), she came in. She tried to remember how far from her apartment building she went and she had no idea. She decided to buy only necessary basics and mentally slapped herself for not bringing a backpack. She would have to come back later. Or ask someone – Mrs. Larkin was going to _kill_ her for all the questions she had for her - unless Vera buried her under her questions first. The clerk was honest to god bored, but seemed to light up when he saw her. Neither of them commented on the fact - her personal guess was that he hadn’t recognize her and gotten excited about a new face. Her wallet cried just like the day before. This time though, it couldn’t be avoided. She needed to eat. And drink tea. And bring Mrs.Larkin something, because the woman was a saint.

The way back to her apartment was a bitch, but she managed to look at the GPS only three times, trying to memorize the way for the next time. It took her an hour, but she blamed one of the plastic backs that didn’t handle its load. She couldn’t supress the sigh of relief when she saw the familiar building. Once she was inside, she placed the supplies and decided to cook the easiest lunch known to her (couscous with vegetable and cheese), planning her afternoon. She would definitely pay a visit to _Nina_ , probably skype her family and friends – if she would be so lucky and figured out the wifi thing. They weren’t big tasks, but she had a hunch it would keep her busy for the rest of the day, so she started with memorizing the menu of MDDC and postponed the social activities for later – this time she had to get her priorities straight. On top of that, she had to keep the time zones in mind. So there was that.

When she went to sleep that night, she didn’t even throw a blanket over herself. She was too exhausted.

\---  
“So, what’s your story?” Terri asked her as she showed her yet another coffee machine – this one was being used for frappe and Vera was having a hard time to remember what the first thing Terri had showed her that day had been. Terri had been working here for three years now, she knew her way around and she could allow herself to multitask – she served multiple customers while explaining Vera all the know-how, kept a light conversation with what seemed to be regulars _and_ interrogated her.

(“Machackova, huh? Russian?” - “No. Czech, actually. No, I don’t blame you for not knowing where that is. And we were once under unofficial Russian military occupation, so…”

“Not really a coffee shop person, are you?” - “Nope, I’m … I don’t drink coffee.”  - “Holy shit!”

“What had you been doing since high school?” - “Med school dropout.” - “So cool!” - “If say so…”

There was also a moment Terri leaned really close and studied her eyes. “Are you wearing contacts?” - “Uhm… yeah.” - “Huh. Colour?” - “No. I can’t see shit without them. Well, very blurry shit, anyway.” - “Oh, you poor thing.”

“So I can call you Mechy, right?” - “Of course. Don’t spread it though. My brother would find out and get mad about me stealing his secret identity.” – “We’ll see about that.”)

Vera laughed playfully. “What you mean? I told you like… everything. You asked me everything.”

“I did _not_. What brings you to America, Czsesch girl?”

“Czech,” Vera corrected her automatically and as Terri raised her eyebrows multiple times, Vera realized she was mocking her. “Needed a change.”

Terri examined her for a while, unnaturally silent. She huffed. “He was a jerk,” was all she said.

Vera just gasped, shocked. “How could you possibly-” 

“If I told you, I would have to kill you.” She winked and finished their tour without another word. She only talked about coffee. And tea. And hot chocolate and shakes and pastry.

Vera managed her first customer without any fatal mistakes; she counted that as a win. It might had something to do with the fact he had no idea what he ordered, so he couldn’t complain, but hey, small victories.

Around two p.m. there was no soul except Lyla (she was so quiet that Vera almost forgot she was there behind the counter as well, so Vera liked her too). Vera was absently leafing through the local newspaper hoping to find sudoku or something to occupy her mind (and keep it from coffee), when an article caught her eye.

**_Human trafficking ring taken down by the Devil_ **

What did _that_ mean? She looked around, searching for Terri, only to find her reading over her own shoulder.

“The Devil?” Vera asked her, sceptical and started reading the article. It was short – something about Russian mob trading children for money. ( _Doprdele_. These things actually existed outside the movies?) Apparently, bunch of kids had been saved by a mysterious man in a black mask (who they called The Devil for whatever reason Vera didn’t understand), who beat the traffickers to a pulp. An anonymous called the authorities and the men were arrested.

“Really? Have you done no research before moving in here? The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is a freaking ninja in a black mask coming to rescue anyone who cries for help loud enough.”

Alright. Count her interested. “Like a superhero?”

Terri made a face. “Nah. More like a vigilante. The Avengers are superheroes.”

“The who, now?”

Terri gave her an incredulous look and spent precious moments gaping at her silently. She threw her hands in the air. “The Avengers. Girl, _jeez_. An alien attack two years ago? Have you lived under-“

“An ALIEN attack? I was told there was a terrorist attack!” Vera heart was beating like crazy. What the hell?! Aliens? Was this some kind of a joke? If it was, why was Terri so convincing?

_Dělá si ze mě prdel?!_

Terri was watching her in disbelief, Vera mirroring her expression. Then her eyes looked at her sympathetically. “Oh, honey…”

She started explaining her everything and Vera’s disbelieve grew with every word.

That’s it. She was never calling Hell’s Kitchen boring again. _Ever_.

The rest of the day was uneventful. She served few more people, some of them giving her curious look (and Vera was reminded once again that new people did not come to the Hell’s Kitchen very often) and that was it. No cute boys to droll over. Not that she had time for that. Saying she was nervous every single time anyone ordered would be an understatement. But she was getting better.

On Sunday, she did more shopping (Nina in fact had told her about a shop that wasn’t an hour away from their apartment building) and had an afternoon shift. The café was closing at 8.30 p.m. on Sunday, so that was nice. She called her family and spent most of the evening chatting with Anna and Marky. She missed them, but she was also glad she met Terri. She was like a hurricane and Vera needed someone like her to keep her laughing. She also met two other employers - Caroline and Becky - they were nice enough, but they only exchanged few words with her and didn’t feel the need to help her.

She was nervous about tomorrow – she had the morning shift, which started at 5:15. Who would want coffee at 5:15? …Probably anyone, who had to be awake at such a terrible hour. Also, mornings on working days were frantic, so she was more than worried.  On the bright side, Terri had the shift with her, so she had a sister in arms who would save her if anything went off the rails. She prayed for Olivia not being there. That would be catastrophic. Sleep didn’t come easy.

\--  
Vera woke up groggy. When she finally reached the café, she had to fight the urge to drink all the tea that was there (and was tempted to try out coffee again despite being sure she still hated it the same). She settled on one cup of tea – as an employee, she had generous discount. By the time the first customers entered, she was high on the quality tea and Terri’s rambling, so she managed not the look like a zombie and she could be a nice barista with a polite smile. Yay for her.

Around six, the crowd appeared. At seven, she wasn’t sure, how many _What can I get you?_ she had already asked, but it was _a lot._ People were crazy to get their daily dose of caffeine. She couldn’t blame them though. After she screwed up two orders in row, Becky shot her a murderous look and Vera had to use the bathroom to calm herself down before she came back. Terri gave her a sympathetic smile and Vera continued serving customers with no other error.

Around eight the worse flocks thinned out and she took a deep breath and gave an honest smile to her next customer. The man was wearing round dark red glasses, nice suit and neutral expression. Anyone else would look ridiculous in the glasses (she certainly would), but it suited him. His hair was slightly ruffled, most likely from the breeze outside.

“Welcome to MDDC, what can I get you?” she asked him automatically and he tilted his head like he was considering. His hands fidgeted with a cane he was holding.

 _A white cane._ That man was _blind_. Vera panicked. She had never dealt with a blind person, let alone with a blind _customer_. He didn’t seem to notice. Of course he _didn’t,_ how _could_ he?!

“Hello. One Americano, no sugar, one latte macchiato with extra sugar and one vanilla latté, to go,” he ordered and Vera wondered what crime she had committed to deserve this. She was about eighty percent sure she was gonna screw it up and he wouldn’t even know, because he was _blind_ and it made her feel even worse.

_Don’t freak out._

Vera entered the order in the cash box (and really, it was a brilliant, brilliant cash box, because once you entered the first two numbers of the code each drink had, if viewed you the possibilities and _thank god for technology_ ), made sure she got it right and told him the price. He gave her ten (his wallet was perfectly organised, not that she stared) with a reassuring smile (like he knew exactly she was a nervous wreck at the moment) and moved to the make space for another customer.

She tried really, really hard not to mix it up. She hadn’t even ask names, because she would probably wrote them wrong. She only asked once she placed the first two coffees on the bar.

“Oh. Americano for Matt,” he made a polite pause while she scribed the name on the cup, “macchiato for Foggy,” he continued and Vera froze. Did she hear right?

“Uhm… Foggy. Like… the weather?” she asked with an attempt not to sound too rude, but he made a face anyway. “I mean. It’s double G, right? I would hate to misspell,” she blurted out and she might manage to sound reasonable. And she _would_ hate to misspell no matter how weird the nickname (or name??) sounded.

His face lighted up. “Yeah. Like the weather. He’s _very_ protective of his nickname.”

Vera still felt like she _did_ mess up. And there were usually two things she did when she messed up something – she ran (not an option right now) or she babbled. So while she was scribing _Foggy_ on the cup, she babbled. “Hey, if anyone wants to be called after gloomy weather, it’s none of my business. I’m not a fan of coffee who’s working in a café. So. Who am I to judge…”

 _Worse_ , she realized. She made it _worse_.

Vera turned to get the last coffee, her face undoubtedly red and her mind racing as she was trying to figure out the way out of this mess. To her surprise, when she looked at him again, he was grinning.

“The last one is for Karen, with K.” He was _laughing_ at her. But hey, that was the better option. He could be angry. She obediently wrote Karen’s name on the last cup. He seemed to be waiting for something else.

It took her a while.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” She reached under the counter to get a cup holder. How exactly she expected him (or anyone for that matter) to carry three cups of hot coffee?

And that exact moment it _went out of the rails_ , but _because of Terri_ , to Vera’s surprise. “Jeez, Mechy, stop flirting with the poor guy,” she shouted at her with laughter in her voice and Vera wanted to sink through the floor. She was going to _murder_ her. Vera wasn’t… she _wasn’t_.

 _He,_ on the other hand, was royally amused if the look on his face was anything to go by.

“Mind your own business, Theresa!” she shouted back, using her friend’s full name on purpose and muttered under her breath _, “I wasn’t flirting.”_ And she honestly wasn’t. She didn’t really have a flirting tactic, she didn’t flirt often enough to develop one, but making herself an idiot didn’t seem like a good idea.

Vera was placing the cups in the holder, when the idea occurred to her. She took Foggy’s cup and wrote another line on it. He frowned like he was trying to solve the biggest mystery in the world, but didn’t comment. He might not notice her action and something else troubled his mind. It was hard to tell.

“Uhm.” She fidgeted, unsure how to let him know she wanted to give him the holder.

He understood and held out a hand so she could place the holder in it. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for choosing MDDC. Enjoy your coffee.”

He gave her one more (brilliant and _charming_ ) smile and left with periodical _tap, tap, tap_. She turned to Terri. “You’re dead, Theresa.”

Terri just laughed it off and stuck her tongue out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Over 3000 words, yay! Hope it’s not all trash.  
> Alternative title of the chapter – Meet-cute no.1. 
> 
> In case you are interested in enriching your Czech swearing vocabulary:  
>  _Kráva. – Cow._  
>  Doprdele – Shit. (Basically.)  
> Dělá si ze mě prdel? - Is she fucking kidding me?/ Is she shitting me?
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – Landscape


	5. Daily dose of cuteness (Matt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell happened to your face?! … Oh god. You got laid, didn’t you?”

When Matt entered the office building, the corners of his lips were still twitching. The encounter with the girl (Mechy? What kind of name was that? A nickname perhaps?) was amusing if nothing else. She was new in the café, most likely new in Hell’s Kitchen too – he didn’t recall hearing her voice before. Her nervousness was endearing (once he found out her heart rate wasn’t elevated because of her attraction to him, since there were no other signs of it, but simply because of his complicated order and – let’s be honest – his blindness most likely).

And of course, there was the purest confusion about Foggy’s name and her rambling when she realized that whatever she had said might have offended him. Her heart didn’t skip a beat when she whispered to herself about not flirting with him – which was why it surprised him when she picked up one of the cups and wrote something on it – he was pretty sure it was Foggy’s cup. Was it her phone number and her name? Why would she do that if she hadn’t met him? Was she interested in the story behind the unusual name/nickname?  Or did she think he himself was Foggy? If she did, why did she bother to write something since he obviously couldn’t read it himself? Matt was absolutely baffled.

He paused in front of the door to their office. Karen was already in, siting at her desk, heartbeat and breathing steady as she was writing some notes. Her hair made soft noise against her shoulder as she tucked it behind her ears. Foggy was in his office, head on his own desk judging by the muffled sound of his breathing, and was closer to being asleep than awake.

Matt entered the office and Karen’s head snapped up immediately. He leaned his cane against the chair at the door.

“Morning, Karen.”

“Hey, Matt.” She probably smiled at him. “Ooooh, is that coffee?” she asked despite the obvious answer and stood up to get her cup.

 _“Did she say coffee?”_ Foggy mumbled into his desk and made his way to them too.

“Yes,” Matt answered loud enough for both of them to hear.

“ _Creep_ ,” Foggy muttered under his breath. His tone wasn’t malicious, more like annoyed. Yes, he definitely needed that coffee.

He scared Matt when he stopped dead in his tracks and his heartrate picked up.

“What the _hell_ happened to your face?!” he cried out and Matt froze, all alarm bells in his head set off. Was he bleeding? No, he didn’t smell or feel blood, especially not on his face. As the matter of fact, he didn’t recall getting punched in his face during his night activities the whole weekend – he was kind of proud of that. Then what was Foggy talking about?

“Foggy! Now he stopped! Matt, don’t listen to him, he’s a jerk. Your face is perfectly fine,” Karen said as she came closer. There was a hint of anger in her voice aimed at Foggy. Matt relaxed and allowed himself to smile.

“See? It’s back. What happened, buddy? ... Oh god. You got laid, didn’t you?” he accused him and everything clicked into place. Foggy was talking about Matt _smiling_. The _weird thing on his face_ was his _smile_.

Karen gasped. “Foggy!” she cried out, outraged.

“Thank you, Karen. You know, Foggy, I don’t always have to get laid to smile.”

“…but you did.”

“I did not!” He sighed. The only way out of this was the truth. It was simple. “There was a nice new girl at the counter in MDDC. That’s all.”

Foggy’s heart jumped. Ah-oh. He got new ammo. This was totally Matt’s fault. “Of course. And she was hot, you got all charming and scored her number, didn’t you, Matty-boy?”

Karen crossed arms on her chest and Matt could feel her curious gaze burning through him. “Did you?”

If Matt wasn’t holding their coffees he would throw his hands in the air - sadly, he could only do that with his free hand. “Firstly, not everything in my life that involves smiling, is necessarily connected to a beautiful woman.” He ignored the snort from Foggy. “Secondly, I wouldn’t even know if she was beautiful.” Another doubtful sound he passed over. “And thirdly, she was just being nice, got confused about your name and then ashamed because of it. I am actually pretty sure it was _your_ cup, Foggy, she wrote some extra words on.”

Foggy’s squeak was possibly the most satisfying sound for Matt’s ears at the moment.

“Gimme.” Foggy wildly gestured towards the cups, crossed the room in a hurried pace and took one. While he examined it in silence, Karen reached for hers.

Silence prolonged. Except Foggy’s heartbeat fluttered – a sound only Matt could hear.

Then there was a giggle. _Honest to god_ , Foggy giggled. It caught both, Matt and Karen, off guard. They shot him a surprised look.

“What does it say?” Karen asked first and leaned closer to him.

He showed her (she _awwwwed_ ), but he read it out loud for Matt’s sake.

“Say _yay_ on Foggy day – sun is overrated anyway.” He giggled again. “This is treasure. I’m keeping it forever.” With those words, he walked back in his office and closed the door behind him. Matt wasn’t sure, but he suspected Foggy snuggled up to the cup.

His grin widened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s call it intermezzo? I thought you might find the change in POV refreshing. I certainly did while writing it. I wanted to catch Foggy’s reaction. Enjoy! Vera’s POV will be back in next chapter.


	6. 4 (When food is gone...) You are my daily meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you say punching bags?”  
> “You like boxing? No, wait, don’t answer. I should’ve seen it coming. You do, don’t you?”

The day off was something Vera wasn’t prepared for. She woke up in the morning and realized she didn’t have a plan. She texted Terri whether she wanted to hang out, but she had the morning shift again, then she would nap and get ready for a date night - she was out of picture.

Vera decided to text Nina too. She would like to talk to her again and actually get to know her – it occurred to her as she was texting that the woman asked her questions about her life, helped her with everything and all Vera knew about her was that her husband was quite unlikeable and a very antisocial person (how those two got along so well, she didn’t understand), that she lived downstairs, and probably had no kids.

Vera dedicated her morning to cleaning up her flat. Until Nina answered her text, Vera considered going shopping (and finding a shopping centre, because she wanted to explore the beauty of shopping in New York). However, Nina invited her over for _late but healthy lunch and coffee_ and she couldn’t decline.

They met at 2.30 p.m. Nina welcomed her with a hug and a warm smile. She reminded Vera of her mum – they looked completely different, different hair colour, different build, different voice - but something in her smile was motherly and the way she treated her was painfully similar. It only backed up her theory she was childless. (Later, she learned that it wasn’t the truth. Nina had a daughter – Maria - who left for Washington D.C. years ago and was intensely captivated by politics.) She also learned about her job – Nina was working as a secretary for an insignificant real-state agency. Their office kept only morning hours and in the afternoon, agents met with their clients outside the office.

“I’m sorry to keep asking you about things, but… do you know about any fitness or sport centre around here? With reasonable prices? When I walked the neighbourhood, I only found-“ _What was the name again? Fader’s? Foster’s?_ “-Fogwell’s?” she asked, unsure she got it right.

Nina nodded. “Yes. Fogwell’s. It has been here forever. An old building, hasn’t changed in decades. It’s probably not the kind of gym you’re looking for, but I could be wrong… I think there is a fitness centre, which doesn’t exactly have low prices, but it is just a couple of streets from Hell’s Kitchen, within walking range. Well, your walking range. I swear, you walk like someone is chasing you and you just don’t want to draw his attention by running…”

Vera laughed and had to admit it was quite accurate description of her gait. “What makes you think I would despise Fogwell’s?”

“Nothing really. It’s just… I would reckon you as a group lessons type. Then again, I could be wrong. Fogwell’s is...” she seemed to be seeking for the right word, “…old. They have a little equipment for working out, few punching bags and a boxing ring. The days of its glory are long gone.”

Vera could tell Nina didn’t expect her to light up. “Did you say _punching bags_?”

“You like boxing? No, wait, don’t answer. I should’ve seen it coming. You do, don’t you?”

Vera shrugged. “Well, not exactly. I used to do fit-box back home. It’s more _fit_ than _box_ , group lesson,” she smiled at her, “with music and everything. But yeah, I kinda miss punching something. _Something_ , not someone, can’t imagine doing that. I fail to see what people like about beating each other up. And I think I might handle a lesson in the other centre once a week… How much is the Fogwell’s?”

Nina appeared to be lost in her thoughts and then she gave Vera a brilliant grin. “Actually…”

\---

So, apparently, Mr. Fogwell (who was the owner of the gym) had a grandson, who used to clean up the gym every other evening or so, but had left for college this year. While dealing with customers (the little, who would still come there) the old man could handle, cleaning up was another case.

Which was how Vera found herself  standing in front of the gym, gathering thoughts and courage to come in and offered him her help with keeping the gym presentable in exchange of letting her train in there after hours. It was kind of a genius plan (Nina came up with it, obviously).

And it _worked_.

Mr.Fogwell was somewhat deaf (which made Vera doubt he knew what he had agreed to and she had to wonder how exactly he _did_ deal with people), but vivacious man, who was pleased by her offer and didn’t mind her punching the bag once or twice. He gave her the spare key (she immediately added it on her own key ring in order not to lose it) and the list of opening hours. They settled on her coming in every two or three days. He wouldn’t pay her anything, since she could come over any day (after hours) and he would provide detergents and disinfection (or paid her for them when she brought him the bill).

She loved the arrangement and agreed to start the very night. He also warn her she might run into Mr. Murdock, the boxer’s son (he wildly gestured to one of the ancient posters on the wall: _Creel vs. Murdock_ ), the lawyer with capital L, who had taken down the son of a bitch Fisk. He had a spare key too and sometimes visited. Vera didn’t ask why – it was none of her business. After all, she would be coming after hours too.

Vera returned home for her backpack, sportswear, towel and hand wraps – there were things she hadn’t packed to US, but her bandages _would not_ stay left behind. She decided to go shopping before walking to the gym – it was the same direction, but she knew the supermarket would be probably closed by the time she left Fogwell’s. It wasn’t convenient for the food, but she would get past that. It was a better option than go shopping in the morning before her afternoon shift in MDDC and then do some magic cooking in a rush. Besides, she was out of her favourite flapjacks (which she planned to eat instead of dinner before exercising) and had no plastic bottles at home, so she didn’t have a choice.

With her backpack full of food and drinks, she entered the gym and once again was hit by the odour of sweat, leather, iron and… something. She couldn’t quite figure it out, but there was something else. She explored the main room, the locker room, the toilet (with no showers, _gross_ ) and the room that could only be named as _the room in the back_ – she found the cleaning supplies and tools there, the first aid kit and to her pleasant surprise, she also found a fridge with a freezer – it was filled with cooling packs and icepacks. It seemed thoughtful of Mr. Fogwell; she didn’t know if he charged people extra money for using them, but she was sure they appreciated it either way.

The cleaning process took her over two hours and she was glad she started with it. If she started with boxing, she wouldn’t be able to stand up once she would kneel down to scrub some of the stains on the floor (she didn’t expect it would always take her so long to clean up – it was painfully visible no one had thoroughly tidied up here for a while). And her muscles were definitely warmed up thanks to that kind of workout. With satisfaction, she stripped out her rubber gloves and wrapped her hands for boxing instead. She put on some music and placed couple of punches and kicks along with the rhythm of the song. God, she missed this. She didn’t fight the smile that found the way on her lips.

Vera didn’t managed the whole hour of (fit)boxing, but she never had to - usually there was some warm up, workout and stretching involved in the lesson – today, she had two hours of warming up and weightlifting, so she took her time with stretching her tired muscles instead. It was past eleven when she finally turned off the lights, locked the gym up and shoved the keys in her pocket.

Her whole body was fighting exhaustion, but the good kind. The autumn night air was cold against her flushed cheeks. It felt nice, yet she couldn’t deny the fact she wouldn’t mind her fifteen-minutes’ walk home (home, with a _shower_ ) being shorter. She would take a short-cut, but she knew better. Every single shady thing always happened in a dark alley. Or an abandoned warehouse.

Vera was just five minutes from home, when she walked past one of the possible short-cuts and someone grabbed her backpack and yanked her sideways. She cried out in surprise and fell down as she was thrown off her balance. She hit the ground with a loud hiss.

 _Co to sakra_ -

“Hey, _beautiful_ ,” hoarse voice spoke up above her. She immediately found its source – a man in a soil hoodie.

She stumbled back on her feet, heart hammering violently against her chest, one single thought screaming in her head.

_RUN._

Before she could make a move, he shoved her against the wall of the alley. He approached her slowly as if he was cornering an animal, his head inclined on side.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?”

 _Pepper spray_. Why didn’t she have her purse with her pepper spray? 

“What- what do you want?” she asked him, voice shaking. Maybe if she was fast enough, she would be able to slip out. Right?

His lips curled in an approximation of a smile. It was a mean, terrifying smile. “I don’t want to hurt you. Just gimme you wallet and phone and we’re good, hm?” he was inches from her, laughing in her face. Vera felt his hand on her hip. She fought a shiver and looked away.

_What the hell was she supposed to do?_

He was just one man; surely she would be able to flee him? She just needed to distract him for a moment and use it to her advantage.

She had spent an hour beating up a punching bag. It couldn’t have been such a difference to hit a person, right? It could _not_.

Remembering the keys, she made a rash decision. She slid her free hand in her pocket and grabbed them firmly.

3…2...1.

Vera jerked her knee to his groin.

He made a shocked noise and stumbled backwards - that was all she was waiting for. She aimed her fist armed with her keys at his face. She let out a painful whine as her knuckles collided with his cheekbone.

It was a _huge_ difference. No one ever told Vera it would hurt _her_ so much.

“Bitch!” he yelled, still bent forward as he had gotten kicked in his balls. She didn’t hesitate. She turned on her heels and sprinted her way down the alley.

Only to be shoved into a wall again. _Doprdele_. It never occurred to her the man might not be alone.

“You’re looking for trouble, aren’t you?” the other man hissed and she saw a reflection of a blade.

Vera wasn’t stupid. She knew she couldn’t fight two men of which one had a knife. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

Dizziness taking over her, her legs gave up and she sank in the cold ground, trying to merge with the wall.

“Please, p-please don’t,” she sobbed, tears stinging in her eyes, hands suddenly trembling. She was too scared to care how desperate she looked or sounded.

 _He’s going to gut me,_ a quiet voice shrieked in her mind. _They are going to gut me and leave me bleeding to death over my wallet and phone_. “I’ll give you everything!”

He snorted and the first man entered her field of vision too. There was a little blood on his cheek. She didn’t know if it belonged to him or her; she didn’t give a shit about it though.

“Oh, beautiful, you should have thought it through before you punched me to my face,” he spitted out the words and took another step forward. “We’ll take it one way or the other.”

Vera curled up in a ball and held her forearms up, protecting her head and torso. She closed her eyes, waiting for whatever was to come.

Silent thud and sound of flesh hitting flesh.

“Shit!”

Miserable groan. Panting. Rustling.

Body hitting the ground.

More blows.

Crack followed by agonized scream.

The wet sound of blood.

Body hitting the ground.

Vera didn’t want to think what that meant. Was this city so bad that muggers fought each other over their victim? Oh god. She should have _never_ come to New York.

She waited, frozen, unable to make a single move.

“Are you alright?” A deep voice found its way to her ears and she flinched. It didn’t belong to either of the men who had attacked her. She would now recognize their voices anywhere. They were burned into her brain like a brand.

“Don’t hurt me, please,” she muttered to her arms, too terrified to look at him, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. She turned around slightly, so he could reach her backpack easily. “Take whatever you want. Just-”

“I promise I am not going to hurt you,” the voice said slowly. Patiently. _Gently_.

She refused to move and squeezed her eyes tighter. _Just take what you need and leave me alone._

Vera heard the man sigh and she feared what he was about to do. Gloved hand caught her forearm in a careful grip. She didn’t fight the pressure as he pushed her arm away – she didn’t want any trouble. Not anymore.

He let go of her arm and pulled his hand back, otherwise she didn’t hear any movement.

Vera had no idea what was going on. He hadn’t left, yet he hadn’t tried to hurt her. His behaviour was suspicious if anything. She hesitantly opened her eyes, blinking. The newcomer was wearing all black. And a mask.

She gasped. But her heart, pounding in her chest painfully, slowed down. It was him. It was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

 _The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen_ was right in front of her in the dim light of the distant street lamp, squatting so he could face her. Well, half-face her, since the mask was covering his eyes and upper face. Its lower half mirrored concern.

Vera tried to get it together. When she looked around, she found her attackers lying on the ground, unmoving. Relief washed over her. She was safe.

She took few deep calming breaths and scrambled up. The Devil stepped back, giving her space. She appreciated it. His posture was tense, but it didn’t intimidate her. He wasn’t the one she was afraid of.

She spent precious moments dully staring at her saviour. She gulped.  “Thank you.” It was barely a whisper; she couldn’t find her voice.

He seemed to hear her anyway, because a hint of a smile appeared on his lips and he nodded. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah. Uhm. Yeah, I live just minutes away.”

He nodded again and turned around, walking away slowly. Her mind raced.

_What do you do when a vigilante saves you?_

_How do you say ‘thank you’ apart from… saying thank you?_

The craziest thought popped in her head. “Wait!” she burst out and he stopped in a mid-step, hesitant.

“Yes?”

“You’re– you’re not done for the night, are you?” she suspected and he turned his head to her. She wondered if his eyebrow was raised in a silent question. She thought it might.

Vera followed his footsteps and let her backpack fall on the ground. She fished out one of the small bottles of water and a flapjack. She felt stupid. Yet, it felt right. “Take this,” she said and tossed him the items.

The Devil turned around and caught them in mid-air with one fluid motion. He looked at them like he wasn’t sure what do to with them. He tilted his head in almost familiar gesture. Baffled? Curious? Considering his options? _Considering her sanity?_

“Thank you,” he said simply and slid the flapjack in a leg holster she hadn’t registered before – there were two sticks in it. Billy clubs?

With the bottle still in his hand, he ran off, jumping up on a fire escape – or rather caught on a railing with one hand and swung his body up.

“ _Ježišmarja_ ,” escaped her lips quietly and she was glad he couldn’t understand what she said. Although he might hear her for all she knew.

‘C _oming to rescue anyone who cries for help loud enough,’_ Terri’s words echoed in her head. ‘ _A freaking ninja in a black mask.’_

Vera still couldn’t believe what had just happened. But she decided it wouldn’t get any more real in this alley, even though her hand was _burning_ and _bleeding_ and there were _two unconscious men on the ground_ to prove her right.

She walked home like someone was chasing her and she wouldn’t want to draw their attention by running.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title – Meet-cute no.2.
> 
>  _Co to sakra – What the hell-_  
>  Ježišmarja! – Jesus-Maria! (Jesus Christ!... basically) 
> 
> About the chapter title – it is written in the tags that the author of this story uses the lyrics out of context… so I won’t apologize for it ;)
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – You’ve got the love


	7. 5) I don’t wanna talk about it (I don't wanna listen all that much)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay. So I gotta ask. Is his butt as fine as they say?”  
> “Excuse me?”  
> “Oh come on! You didn’t even sneak peek?!”  
> “NO!”

When Vera woke up the next morning at her alarm, her body was aching and her right hand slightly burned. She definitely overdid her training session last night.

Last night.

She sat up hastily as she remembered why exactly everything hurt. She had been _assaulted_. And she tried to defend herself. God, she was such an _idiot_. She ran her hand down her face just to find out she had a bandage on it. Right. The bandage shifted against her knuckles and didn’t that feel all that amazing.

She had an excellent plan for today. She lied back and muffled herself in the covers. She was out in minutes.

\---  
Her other waking up went better – she felt more rested and allowed herself not to freak out over the fact she had slept for ten hours straight while usually she slept seven or eight. She deserved it.

Vera checked her hand and came to conclusion it didn’t need the bandage anymore. It hurt like a bitch, but the forming bruising was to blame. Two crooked cuts on her knuckles and back of her fingers that she had disinfected yesterday weren’t too deep and they weren’t bleeding anymore. The bandage would only attract attention and be getting in her way in work.

She took a long shower. She couldn’t help checking up herself in a mirror – her back was bruised too, which explained the pain. The rest of her body ached because of her performance in the gym, she was sure of that. She realized she was incredibly lucky to only have two cuts and few bruises. She could have been dead. So. Yeah. She didn’t want to think about that too hard.

After quick brunch she headed to MDDC – she was too early. Vera sat at the table in a corner and tried to be invisible. She let her mum know she was okay (for her mum, there was no reason to worry, really, she didn’t know about last night and she would never learn about, _ever_ ) and that she would call her tonight with some news. She wanted to text Terri to ask about her date night - she knew her friend had had a day off and Vera wouldn’t see her, but she decided not to. For all she knew, the date could have gone too well and she could still be with whoever she had gone out with. Terri hadn’t say much about him, she had just mentioned it was their first night out and while Vera wouldn’t sleep with anyone on their first date, she wasn’t sure about Terri. She was impulsive enough, no doubt.

As it turned out, Terri found her anyway. She entered the café with what only could be described as a zombie look, ordered coffee and spotted Vera in her corner. She approached her with raised eyebrow and collapsed in the other chair. Vera didn’t blame her for being surprised – she still had almost an hour before her shift would. (Meaning her 9-hour shift which started in an hour and seriously, no one ever came earlier than necessary. Not even for the afternoon shift.)

“That well, huh?” Vera asked her and hoped it was clear she was talking about Terri’s date.

Terri shot her an unamused look. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Couldn’t or didn’t want to?”

She sighed. “Believe me. I just _couldn’t_. That asshole took me to this super-expensive restaurant owned by his cousin. So, after we ate, he’s giving me a tour, then winks at me and drags me in the _staff only_ and I think _hell yeah, he’s hot, nothing wrong with a little make-out session_. Except there was his cousin in a horny rabbit suit waiting for a threesome. I never escaped my date so quickly. I still can’t get the picture out of my head. It’s like it’s burned into my brain,” she finished with horrified expression on her face, hands moving frantically around her head as if it meant something.

Vera would think Terri made it all up if there wasn’t the haunted look in her eyes. Wow. She couldn’t even find the courage to ask about the cousin’s gender. She probably didn’t want to know. Perks of English.

“Yeah. You _do_ seem to be traumatised,” she admitted and gestured towards her friend’s face. “Sorry.”

Terri froze. Huh. She really _was_ traumatized.

“What the _hell_ happened to your hand?”

Oh. “Oh. You mean that?”

Vera didn’t really want to talk about it. She was still coming to terms with it herself.

“Yeah. THAT,” Terri put the emphasis on the second word.

“It’s nothing.”

Terri shook her head. “It’s not _‘_ nothing’.” She took her right hand and examined it. Vera did very good job with not hissing in pain. “Did you punch anyone?”

And seriously, was she a psychic or something? Was that a thing around here? _Aliens are, apparently_.

It was her turn to sigh. “Yes. Yes I did.”

Terri’s head snapped up. “What happened?”

 _Assault_ was such an ugly, ugly word. “I was mugged,” Vera admitted. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it sounded a little better.

“WHAT?” Terri yelled. “Are you okay? Did you go to the police? Did-”

“Hey, _hey_ , calm down.” Vera looked around the café. Few people glanced in their direction. “And keep your voice down, dammit.”

Terri gave her an incredulous look and opened her mouth to speak up again.

Vera was faster. “I am okay. I’m okay.” _Was she?_ “Uhm.... He saved me.”

Terri kept staring at her, not following. Vera gave her a significant look. _You know._

A small light bulb blinked above Terri’s head. “Nooooo way.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me _everything._ ”

“I don’t really wanna-“ she hesitated. Terri seemed no longer tired. She was practically jumping in her chair. _Great_. “Fine. So…”

Vera wanted to be brief, but the curiosity in her friend’s eyes wouldn’t let her. She kept interrupting her.

“So, hold on a second. You kicked him in the balls and punched him with your keys.”

“Uhm-”

“You’re a badass! Crazy, but also badass. Alright. Shutting up, now.”

“Right. Then-” she continued until she finished the story. She wanted to leave out the small detail about her stupid idea with the refreshment for a vigilante; however Terri could tell she was hiding something. She had to tell her. Terri snorted at her ridiculous action.

“To sum it up, you’re good? Right?” she reassured herself again and Vera just nodded. “Okay. So I gotta ask. Is his butt as fine as they say?”

 _“Excuse me?”_ Vera was sure she heard her wrong. No way she just asked her _that_.

“Oh come on! You didn’t even sneak peek?!”

“NO! I was a little distracted by the fact that a freaking ninja in a black mask – your words, not mine – saved me from being mugged and gutted! And there were two unconscious guys lying on the ground! I’m really sorry I didn’t look at his butt!”

“But you did toss him a snack?” Terri mocked her and laughed.

“Shut up.” When she had said it like this, it sounded even more embarrassing. _God_. She hoped she would never meet him again. Terri couldn’t stop laughing, tears appearing in her eyes.

“You are one of a kind, aren’t you?” She paused. “Or is it a Czech thing?”

Vera huffed and stood up. She needed to get ready for work.

Terri followed her example and grabbed her good hand. “Hey. Sorry. I’m glad you’re okay.” She looked like she meant it.

Vera smiled at her. “It’s better now.” She honestly _did_ feel better, now when they laughed it off. Somehow lighter.

“I can’t believe you gave the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen a midnight snack.”

“I can’t believe you asked me about his butt.”

“Touché.”

Terri actually hugged her goodbye and it felt right. Of course, the good feeling she had, disappeared the moment she found out Olivia was on her shift.

She distracted herself with thinking about yesterday night. It was clearer now. Sharper, without the fog of her fear.

Vera could clearly recall the details - the fear she had felt, sadly. But also the faces of her assailants, she was almost sure she would recognize them on a street if she met them again. She remembered the layout of the alley, the fire escape the Devil had jumped at. When he had turned around to leave the first time, he had been moving slowly – he probably hadn’t wanted to startle her. In fact, he had treated her like glass the whole time he had been talking to her. Also, his voice was likeable. Too rough, but she suspected he had made it like this on purpose, so no one would recognize him. She could recall his sharp-edged jaw with stubble, full lips – his lower lip had split, bleeding, she hadn’t realized that the night before. He had seemed to be fine otherwise.

She suddenly felt disappointed with herself – she would like to see him fight. Vera wasn’t a fan of beating people up - she appreciated martial arts though, she considered it an _art_ in a strange way. She made a mental note to look him up on the internet.  As for Terri’s question, she had _not_ spend time looking at his bottom, but she could tell he was muscular. Not like weightlifter muscular, more athletic built. Like a fighter. Or a _freaking ninja_. Yeah. She could see why Terri asked about his butt. The man sure was _fine._

More importantly, a hero.

She would think about him further, but she messed up an order and Olivia shot her one of the murderous looks she was apparently saving only for Vera. She chased away her memories and focused on work.

\---

Vera _did_ look him up. Mostly, she found newspaper articles. The old ones focused on the Devil rather as a criminal – he beat up muggers and assailants as well as cops, was accused of bombing, yet all the victims of any crime called him a hero. He had apparently helped to take down a criminal mastermind named Wilson Fisk (Vera realized the name sounded familiar, because Nelson  & Murdock, attorneys at law, were involved – Mr. Fogwell had mentioned it, and okay, she could see why he had talked about the lawyer with capital L) involved in a huge corruption case and had delivered him to authorities after Fisk had escaped custody. After that, the Devil’s name had been cleared - as it turned out, the only cops he had beat up had been the dirty ones. Vera imagined the police weren’t fond of him either way – he still acted outside the law. The newer articles were short, unimpressive – newspapers mentioned him briefly as if he made random acts of kindness instead of, she didn’t know, _taking down child traffickers_ for example.

She also found a blog dedicated to victims of different crimes – people thanking him, sharing experiences (she briefly considered sharing hers too, before she decided that _NO_ ), reporting sightings of him. She wondered if police followed these or rather stayed out of his way.

There were couple of pictures of him - bad quality, dark, since they were always taken at night, blurry – and she could see the local vigilante probably wouldn’t be much for posing – but she could tell it was definitely the man who had saved her.

The video of him fighting the cops was a treasure though – it was blurry too, but _holy shit_ , that guy knew how to fight. His hands were handcuffed and yet he managed to dodge bullets, disarm the cop who tried to shoot him and beat up few more, throw punches, kick and _flip in the air_. She had never seen anything like it. He fascinated her. She saw the security footage many, many times and it didn’t become less captivating. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

(She looked up the Avengers too – they were powerful - a super soldier, a huge green monster, a man in a flying suit, an archer, an _alien_ and a spy – it didn’t feel real. Vera didn’t like them. Except for Hawkeye. He was cool. The art of archery totally deserved some respect.)

She called home too, but didn’t tell her parents about the mugging. As the matter of fact, Vera didn’t tell anyone else except Terri. If she would be walking with one hand on the pepper spray in her purse these days, no one needed to know. When she headed to the gym the next evening, she wore her backpack _and_ her purse with the pepper spray. And she kept larger distance between her and the alleys. Just in case.

Vera did a sloppy job cleaning up that day. She was well aware, but she couldn’t wait wrapping her hands and punching something. She placed a bandage on her right hand before using the wraps. She put on aggressive music and although she favoured her bad hand, she punched and kicked the bag like her life depended on it. _Who knew. Maybe next time it will._ Her moves weren’t as graceful as the Devil’s (far, so far from it), but she couldn’t care less. She drowned her anxiety in punches and sweat. The exhaustion felt _good_.

When the music segued into gentler tones, she was almost disappointed. However, she had to admit she was completely out of breath and realized her water was still buried in her backpack. She unwrapped her hands including the bandage. (She checked the damage, her hand hurt more than before, but nothing she wouldn’t handle and also no bleeding.) She used the towel for the first time that evening, lowered the volume on her phone and drank the water in one go before she started stretching. She was still panting like she just ran a marathon, heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears.

 _Někdy mám dost_  
a někdy míň,   
končí se mejdan,   
dohrává skříň .  
Někdy se ptám   
co jsem vlastně zač?   
Někdy je smích,   
někdy je pláč. 

_< Sometimes it’s too much,_  
_sometimes it’s not enough,_  
the party is over now,  
the music fading away.  
Sometimes I ask myself  
who am I anyway?  
Sometimes we laugh,  
sometimes we cry. >

 _Raz si pustim žilu,_  
raz ja pijem krv  
a potom nechcem hádky  
kto kde bude prv,  
A ráno pred zrkadlom  
nesmiem to vzdať.  
Niekedy smiech,  
niekedy plač

 _< Sometimes I bleed,_  
sometimes I shed blood  
and I don’t want to fight about  
who’s superior, who’s not.  
And in the morning in front of my mirror  
I can’t give it up.  
Sometimes we laugh,  
sometimes we cry.>

 _Možná, že je někdy nejlíp_  
nedělat nic  
a všechny prázdný lásky  
vystřelit na měsíc.  
Před zrcadlem ráno  
nesmím to vzdát.  
Někdy je smích  
někdy je pláč

 _< Maybe sometimes the best thing to do,_  
is fold your arms, do nothing  
and fire away   
all this empty love.  
In the morning in front of my mirror  
I can’t give it up.  
Sometimes we laugh,  
sometimes we cry.>

She was sitting, legs spread widely, bent over, her chest resting on the mattress, when the door creaked. Did she forget to lock it up?

Her head snapped up and she stoop up so fast it made her dizzy. _Whoa. Špatnej nápad_. She steadied herself and eyed the intruder.

The man closed the door behind him and looked at her. He was wearing sunglasses, white cane in his hand. She knew him. They had met in the café. He was probably not going to rob this place. She relaxed.

 _Až si po mňa prídu (až si pro mě přijdou)  
s kazajkou pre bláznov (s kazajkou pro blázny),  
snad to nepokazím (snad to nepokazím)  
a moj smiech zaznie (a můj smích zazní).  
Niekedy viem žiť (a někdy taky ne)  
niekedy viem žiť (a někdy taky ne)._ __  
Někdy je smích,  
někdy je pláč.

 _< When they‘ll come for me _  
caring straitjacket for cranks,  
I hope I won’t messed it up  
and I’ll be laughing like a fool.  
Sometimes I know how to live (and sometimes I do not)  
sometimes I know how to live (and sometimes I do not).  
Sometimes we laugh,  
sometimes we cry.>

She turned off the music.

“Hello.” She approached the surprised man and what was his name again? Vera remembered his friend’s (or brother’s or whoever’s) name was Foggy - she wouldn’t forget that any time soon - however, she wasn’t able to recall his. “Can I help you… sir?”

He looked (turned?) in her direction and seemed unsure. He fidgeted with his cane just like he hid in the café. Vera was glad she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what was happening here. “Uhm.” His ability to express his thoughts was affected as well as hers. _Good_.

What the hell did a _blind man_ want in the gym _after hours_?

It struck her the very same moment she asked herself the question. “You’re the lawyer!” she blurted out and he winced. “I mean. You’re Mr. Murdock. You come here sometimes, Mr. Fogwell told me about you. Though he forgot to mention you’re-” she stopped herself before she managed to offend the man with _-blind_. _Deep breath. Think first, talk later._

“I’m sorry. I’m being rude. My name is Veronika Macháčková. I’m helping Mr .Fogwell with cleaning up this place.” She didn’t stick out her hand to shake his since he wouldn’t see it. She was proud of herself. I wasn’t like he didn’t have his hands full; he had a bag in the other hand, so that helped too. “We’ve actually met before. You probably don’t remember. Never mind. Nice to meet you.”

His lips curled into a smile during her monologue. He graciously ignored the fact she almost said _he forgot to mention that you’re blind._ And seriously, what was it with her rambling lately? He must think she was an idiot.

“Matt Murdock. I am a lawyer indeed. And also, I _do_ remember you.” His smile widened and it was a full grin now. “Foggy still has the cup.”

Vera gasped. “Really?” She didn’t know what shocked her more – the fact he may kept the cup _or_ that _Mr. Matt Murdock, the lawyer with capital L_ remembered her. By her _voice_ , she guessed. Although it might be the babbling that gave her away.

“Absolutely. He loves it. It’s hard to tell, but I think he cuddles it sometimes.” He chuckled. She wasn’t sure he was being serious. They stood in silence.

“I- uhm. I’ll get out of your hair. Just gimme a minute, I’ll clean the punching bag, change and I’ll be gone in no time,” she blurted, but didn’t move just yet.

He tilted his head and once again, she was reminded of their encounter in MDDC. The gesture was getting awfully familiar to her. Then his eyebrows shot up. “You box, Ms. Machackova?” he asked, surprised so much it was almost offensive.

She laughed it off and headed to the bag so she could disinfect it. He followed her slowly, not using his cane. He obviously knew the layout of the gym well. She tried to remember if she moved anything out of its usual place.

“It’s Vera,” she replied automatically and then she realized what she suggested. _Doprčic_. She kept saying stupid things around him, denying any rules of etiquette. She cleaned the punching bag. “And no, not really. I wouldn’t call it boxing. Can’t imagine hitting people.” And okay, that was a lie. She could imagine it quite vividly. It hurt. “I tried recently. It didn’t go well,” she admitted and left the _vigilante had to save my stupid ass_ unspoken.

When she looked at him, he seemed troubled. She felt like he wasn’t very comfortable with her being around here despite his attempt to make a conversation. She quickly picked up her stuff. “I’ll just change and I’m out of here.” She disappeared in the locker room before he had a chance to react.

She could have probably done it in front of him, since he wouldn’t be able to see her, but it felt wrong. She tossed her clothes in her backpack and put away the detergent. She washed her hands.

When Vera came back to the main room to head out, he was sitting on the edge of a boxing ring, cane folded on the top of the bag at his feet. She realized for the first time he was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Was he about to work out too?  It would make sense to come after hours then – people tend to stare at a blind man, the gym was no exception without doubt. In fact, they would most likely stare even more, waiting for some kind of a misstep.

He didn’t take off his glasses. She thought he probably would, once she left. He lifted his head when she passed him though. She stopped despite of her better judgement.  “Is there anything I can do for you before I head out?”

He smiled politely. If he couldn’t wait her to get out, he was an excellent actor. “No. Thank you, _Vera_.”

Her breath hitched. She liked her name on his lips- _okay_ , _kroť se, Macháčková_. “ ’kay”. She headed to the door. “Lock up the door for you?”

“Yes. And turn the lights off, please.” _What._ “No use for me,” he explained and _of course_. She was tired. Blame it on her exhaustion.

“Of course,” she sighed at her own stupidity ( _exhaustion)_ , “have a good night, Mr.Murdock.”

He spoke as she reached for the doorknob. “It’s Matt.”

She didn’t fight the smile forming on her lips; it wasn’t like he could see it. “Goodnight, _Matt._ ”

She was closing the door, when she heard his soft voice. “To you as well, Vera.” Most likely, she imagined it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Špatnej nápad. – Bad idea._  
>  Kroť se. – Hold your horses. (I guess…)
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Rhodes – Your soul
> 
> The song is very loosely translated. Equivalents of some expressions just don’t exist. The song is not important, yet I couldn’t resist. I am a sucker for Czech-Slovakian songs and in the last paragraph, they alternate and I freaking love it. The song is called “Někdy je smích, někdy je pláč” and is performed by Janek Ledecký and Peter Nagi. Also, it is pretty ancient. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZKlzGUm1TlY)


	8. 6) Heaven help me…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who was that?”  
> “That was the less hot half of Nelson & Murdock. Still a charmer, though. He also-”  
> “That was Matt’s colleague?!”  
> “Jeez, girl. Way to be subtle.”  
> “Sorry.”

She met Terri at the door to MDDC. She seemed to be as tired as Vera. They mumbled something that could be understood as a greeting and came in. The weather was awful. It was cold, drizzling and one couldn’t see more than a foot in front of him. The charming autumn came to New York City. It was as unpleasant as back home.

Both girls recovered as they spent some time in the heated space of the shop. The tea and the coffee helped too. Vera loved shifts with Terri – both, morning ones and afternoon ones – but she preferred the mornings, since she needed to cheer up. She was glad that the third person with them was Caroline, because running into Olivia on such a gloomy day at such an unholy hour would ruin her day. And possibly her weekend too.

People weren’t delighted about the rain either. Nope. They were bickering outside and inside the café, they were impatient and Vera would swear the crowds doubled since Wednesday. She considered making herself another tea, or maybe even a hot chocolate. She needed some sugar in her system. Around half past nine, she gave up and used a bathroom and drank from the tap at least. She was getting cranky and she knew it.

On her was back to the counter, she saw Terri give a small wave and smile – she curiously eyed the receiver. It was a likeable man, slightly overweight, with funny long (and wet-ish) blond hair and a nice smile. He put a leather case over his head and disappeared into the flow of people.

“Who was that?” she asked Terri as she turned to her with curious look.

“ _That_ was the less hot half of Nelson  & Murdock. Still a charmer, though. He also-”

It immediately caught Vera’s attention. She didn’t hesitate and bent over the counter, hoping she could get another glimpse of him. He was gone. “That was Matt’s colleague?!” she blurted out and Terri laughed in response.

“Jeez, girl. Way to be subtle.” She laughed again and then she froze.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, no. Wait. Did you say ‘Matt’s colleague’?” she asked her suspiciously and Vera found nothing suspicious about that.

So she agreed.

“Matt’s. Not Murdock’s. _Matt’s_!” And yeah, Vera saw where that headed.  Terri’s eyes popped. She smacked Vera’s arm. “Are you on a first name basis with Mr. Hot ‘n Badass lawyer?”

“Uhm. In case you are talking about Matt Murdock, then yeah,” she answered timidly.

Terri smacked her arm again. _Ouch_. “You slay dog!”

Vera wrinkled her nose. “You _did not_ just call me that. _”_ She turned to the next customer. “Welcome to MD-”

“Just hold on a second, would you?” she interrupted her talk loudly and gestured to the customer, dragging her away.

“What-”

“How did _that_ happen? When?!”

Vera couldn’t believe her. She really dragged her away from the counter just to ask her about it. Vera sighed. “Ok. If I answer one of your questions, would you be so kind and let me work? And you know, serve customers with me?”

Terri considered her offer. “Fine. But when it’s less busy, you answer the other one.”

“Deal.”

Vera had to fight a villain’s laughter. She was going to wrack her. She created the brightest smile she managed.

“So?”

“It happened last night,” Vera said simply and the look on Terri’s face was _gold_. She was gaping at her silently, mouthing words like _what, shit,_ _kidding me_ , _fuck_. Vera was more than satisfied.

“Sorry for the delay. What can I get you?”

Terri joined her a minute later. She was still in awe and Vera almost cracked every single time she saw her face.

Terri managed a whole hour before she asked her about the rest.

It wasn’t as funny as the first part. While Vera was telling her about going to Fogwell’s and meeting Matt there, Terri’s face clouded. Vera learned that Matt’s dad died years ago (murdered, actually), when Matt was still a kid (recently blinded on the top of that). Vera felt deeply sorry for him - she couldn’t imagine losing any of her parents yet and she was an adult.

The fact that whole Hell’s Kitchen apparently knew about his fate made it even worse. It felt like a private thing no one had a right to know and yet people talked about him behind his back, and sometimes probably didn’t even bother hiding it. It was just terrible and Vera would slap herself for telling Terri about Matt and Fogwell’s.

Terri surprised her. She sealed her lips with deadly serious expression and crossed her heart. “They will bury his secret with me.”

Vera had never been more grateful for her.

They spent the rest of their shift talking about nothing _and_ Terri’s upcoming date night ( _again_ ). Vera quickly learned that her friend wasn’t a long-time relationship material for now and she also couldn’t resist experiments. Tonight she was going out with a fashion designer. Vera didn’t understand how she had scored her date. It didn’t change the fact she was looking forward hearing the story.

\---

Olivia called in sick. She was supposed to have the afternoon shift and she couldn’t come, because she kept vomiting since the moment she had woken up - that was what the text Mrs. Walker had received said anyway. MDDC couldn’t be handled with two baristas on Friday afternoon and evening.  After all, it was _Friday_ and everyone had plans and Vera didn’t, so yeah, she would be the one staying, in exchange for the day off on Saturday.

Terri felt bad for her, so she stayed for another two and half hour while Vera took an approximation of a lunch break – although the lunch didn’t take two hours, she used it to sit on a bench in front of the bistro (under rooftop, since the morning drizzle escalated into rain), because her legs already hurt from standing behind the counter all day.

She didn’t like the idea of another shift and she was grateful to Terri for staying for some part of it.

Vera came back around three. MDDC was a mess. The place was just a little less crowded than in the morning. That day, the whole Hell’s Kitchen decided to get their daily dose of coffee there, nothing else could possibly explain it. Terri sighed in relief when Vera took her place behind the counter.

At least people weren’t pain anymore - except they didn’t leave tips. Nope, she hadn’t hear _keep the change_ once that afternoon, and judging by the state of the cash box, Becky and Hannah hadn’t either.

Vera sighed and knocked on Mrs. Walker’s door.

“Yes?”

“Sorry. We’re... kinda out of change? People are going all Scrooge today…” she smiled apologetically.

Mrs. Walker sighed and stood up from her desk. “I swear today is shit,” she murmured and Vera couldn’t agree more.

Except when Mrs. Walker opened the safe, she cursed.

“What?” Vera whined, anticipating more trouble.

“We’re out.”

“Yes.” Yes, she had told her that.

“Out of the _spare_. I need someone to go to the bank,” she quickly eyed her watch, “and I need it right now, because the bank is closing at six and that’s in fifteen minutes.” She snapped her head up. “Would you or should I send someone else?”

Vera didn’t think about it twice. “I’ll go.” If she didn’t walk, she might actually take root in the floor of the café.

“Girl, you’re a treasure.” She gave her a list of requested coins she and three hundred dollars. “It’s just few streets over. Turn left and then take the second right, okay?”

Vera took her umbrella, handbag and coat, not bothering with buttons and headed out. It was getting darker. Any other day, it would be still light outside or at least dusky; however the clouds were covering the last sunrays dutifully, creating the atmosphere of later evening. The rain almost faded though.

The streets were quite flooded and with people trying to avoid the puddles, the water was splashing pretty much everywhere. _Great_. She would have to wash her uniform later. The day just kept getting better. She checked the time and quickened her pace.

She rushed into the bank. “Good afternoon.”

There were only two counters opened - both clerks gave her an annoyed look. _Yeah, I feel you. I’m not thrilled either._ From her two options, she chose the young woman over the middle-aged man, since his look wasn’t annoyed as much as murderous. The blonde woman sighed, but managed a professional smile.

 _Sorry_.

“I’m sorry. Mrs. Walker from MDDC sent me,” _in case it’s not clear from my stupid, wet and dirty uniform_ , ”I need some change? For three hundreds.” Vera gave her the list and money. The woman, _Kirsten_ according her nametag (Hey, nametag buddies!) nodded couple times.

“Sure.” Kirsten stood up. “One moment.”

And then Vera heard a deafening sound of a gun going off multiple times and instinctively covered her head.

“Get on the ground, GET ON THE GROUND!” a male voice yelled and she didn’t hesitate to do so.  She crouched on the floor, trying to ignore the cries of the woman and the man.

Her day was getting _fucking spectacular_.

The gun went off again and it must have hit something, because Vera could hear the glass shattering. She ducked more, but peeked from behind her arms.

Four men in plain white plastic masks filled the space of the bank. One of them had his gun at the ceiling, probably shooting to scare them. Another gunman was aiming _at her_. She froze and didn’t dare to move.

Kirsten was led by another robber in Vera’s direction; it took her a while to realize that she must have had a gun at her back as well.

“You. The vault. NOW.” The fourth man crossed the room coming for the older clerk.

The moment he stood up, two security guards rushed in. For some reason, Vera didn’t felt relieved. And she was right.

Several gunshots echoed in the bank again.

Vera let out shriek of terror, hand covering her mouth. _Ježiši Kriste_. She couldn’t breathe. Both security guards ended up with holes in their chest, blood soaking through their shirts. They lied on a floor, unmoving. The woman next to her broke into sobs.

“Do anything stupid and you’ll end up dead too,” the man hissed at them and none of them could hold back another cry.

“He says he doesn’t know the combination.”

Vera turned to the clerk, who went back in the room with gun aimed at his head.

“Oh, _come on_. Really?” the man who had threatened them (and she understood he was the leader of their gang) asked him sceptically.

“I-I ho-ho-honestly don’t- don’t!” the clerk faltered.

“Isn’t that unfortunate?” he asked rhetorical. “I guess we don’t need you then.”

“Wait!” the woman next to Vera yelled. The boss eyed her.

“Oooh, so the lady is in the charge of the money.” His voice was mocking, yet satisfied. “Wise choice. Let him go and take her.”

Vera’s head was spinning. How the hell this happened to her? And WHERE were the police?!

The woman stumbled to her feet and the man was shoved next to Vera.

The gunman who went to the vault earlier was suddenly knocked out cold by something hitting his head. His weapon had clanked on the floor a second before his body did.

Another man, the one who had fired the warning shots, dropped out the very next moment. A billy club rolled on the floor.

_The Devil._

Two remaining thugs turned around, examining the space. Gunshots filled the air. They were shooting in random; no one was in sight.

Vera was close to tears of relief.

“Show yourself, DAMMIT!” the leader roared, scanning the room, aiming at nothing.

Black figure jumped the other gunman from behind, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled forward the same time Devil hit the ground – he was back on his feet in no time.

The boss shot in Devil’s direction. He made a remarkable flip no human being should be able to do as he dodged it, kicking the other man in the process. No bullet hit him.

“Fuck!”

Kicked gunman turned around too slowly and didn’t get a change to fire before the gun was removed from his hands with another fabulous kick. He received a punch in his face.

Vera was watching their fight in awe and feared for the man in the black mask despite his obviously better fighting skills. They had _guns_ , after all. He had his _fists_.

Suddenly she was yanked up to her feet as someone grabbed her arm. She cried out in surprise and pain. Strong arm captured her shoulders in a tight embrace, her back pressed against another body. Something cold and metallic touched her temple.

 _Doprdele_.

The air stuck in her throat. He had a _gun_ at her head. There was a _barrel of a gun_ touching _her head_.

The Devil who had just bashed his opponent to the ground froze.

“Move-” the boss growled and Vera could feel his chest vibrate with his words, “-and I’ll blow her brains out.”

Vera gulped. _Nope. He didn’t sound like he was lying_.

The Devil indeed didn’t make a single move except his chest working with heavy breathing. He was tens feet away. She would be dead before he could even get closer. His jaw was clenched, lips thin line. He looked _pissed off_.

The leader pushed her so she took a few steps left with him. They headed to the exit.  Vera absently registered that the walls of the room were illuminated in red and blue. _The police are here_. Where exactly did he want to escape?

“Turn your back to me. Put your hands behind your head,” he ordered and the Devil, bless him, did. Hesitantly. Unwillingly. But he did.

Vera could tell the boss turned his head to see outside, because he cursed under his breath when he realized he had nowhere to run. 

Unless he would use her as a human shield. She let out a weird sound, mixture of whine and cry. She didn’t want to be used as a shield. She hated this. He squeezed her tighter.

How did that happen again? …Oh, right. She _hated_ Olivia from _the bottom of her heart_.

“Get on your knees,” he grinded his teeth. She would do so, but he held her firmly. Vera realized the order wasn’t meant for her.

The Devil didn’t move.

“DO IT!” the boss roared and Vera flinched as the barrel of the gun pressed tighter to her temple. She thought she heard the safety lock on the gun unlock.

 _Move. Please_. _Just do what he says_.

The Devil slowly sank to his knees, hands still behind his head.

Vera was aware she was trembling now. And crying. Through her tears, she saw one of the men, who had been knocked out by a billy club what seemed like ages ago, raise his hand to his head and groan. He was waking up.

_Doprdele. Doprdele._

He stumbled to his feet and looked around, searching for something. _His gun_ , Vera figured.

Her body became rigid, but her mind raced so fast it nearly hurt. _He gets a hold on his gun and we’re dead._ She squeezed her eyes shut, more tears rolling down her cheeks.  She almost couldn’t hear over the pulse roaring in her ears.

The robber would shoot the Devil. And the boss would shoot her then, most likely; he only needed her for now, to keep the Devil from moving.

 _Why?_   _Why is this happening to_ her?

She opened her eyes again. The man found his gun on the floor, three steps in front of him.

Two steps.

One.

 _Bože, stůj při mně_.

She grabbed the gun aiming at her head and tried to get out of its trajectory as she elbowed her captor. He made a shocked noise and let go.

Two gunshots rang in her ears.

Vera realized with horror that one of them came from the gun in her hand. She dropped it as if she got burned. It clanged on the floor. She managed to push it aside with her feet.

It happened within seconds.

Hard blow sent her to the floor and she whimpered when her hands collided with the solid surface. Pain shot through her left wrist.

She quickly rolled over to face the man just in time to see him receive an impressive right hook followed by multiple punches in a quick pace. Vera wasn’t an idiot, she stumbled to her feet and limped away, checking the other guy - he was out cold again.

The Devil placed the last kick-flip to the boss’s face and they both ended up on the floor. Unlike the Devil, the boss didn’t get up.

The Devil slightly turned his head, crossed the room in hurried steps, grabbed his billy club and would be heading out.

Vera scanned the room, seeing the other stick just feet from her. She stretched out to reach it.

“Hey!” she managed to call out and tossed it in his direction. It was a lame throw – he bended and caught it with no trouble anway.

And _holy shit_ , that was _blood_. A lot of blood. On his upper arm. Pitch black stain on his already dark outfit. He had _gotten shot_.  

She gasped.

“NYPD! PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” Unknown voice roared and Vera instinctively did so and span in the direction of the newcomers.

Six men in bulletproof vests, automatic rifles in hands, armed to their teeth, filled the bank and found four unconscious men and three people scared to death along with two corpses.

The Devil was gone.

Vera suddenly couldn’t hear a sound. Someone entered her field of vision and she thought the man in black helmet was talking to her, but she didn’t understand what he was saying. He raised his head a little and spoke to someone above her.

She was gently pushed up to standing position. Her legs felt like jello. The person who had lifted her noticed and didn’t let her soak back on the floor. His grip was firm, supporting her as he led her from the bank.

Vera wasn’t able to see his face. All she could see was the blood stain on devil’s shoulder, guards falling to the ground, she felt the cold barrel of the gun pressed to her temple. The sound of gunshot echoed in her ears. The gun in her hand _went off._ She could have been shot.

She was sitting, a woman’s hands on her shoulder, her lips moving too.  “ _\- hurts?_ ”

Vera blinked. She was trembling. “What?” she croaked.

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. “What hurts?”

 _A paramedic_ , she realized.

“Oh.”

\---

Vera didn’t need to go to the hospital. The paramedic gave her a splint for her left wrist - _it’s not broken, but if the pain gets worse, don’t hesitate to go to hospital_ – and she received an ugly orange blanket form a police officer, who had asked her to come with him. She sat in a backseat of the police car, two policemen taking her to the precinct.

She was led to a small room with plain grey walls, one of them having large mirror on. Few chairs and a metal table. _An interrogation room_ flashed in her mind. They wanted her to give a statement. She sat on one of the chairs, facing the mirror. She hated it; she could see that she looked like crap. She absently eyed her apron. Yeah. That’s not something a washing machine would handle. She would need a new one.

“I am Officer Collins. Please, tell me what happened in the bank. Tell me everything you remember, anything that crosses your mind.” He placed a voice recorder. “Please, start with your name.”

She did. Her voice was weak. She was tired. Pictures were flickering in front of her eyes. While she was talking, another officer came in, placing an open laptop in front of Officer Collins. She went quiet.

In the reflection in the mirror, she saw what could be a photo of the bank. Both officers watched the screen and she realized it wasn’t a photo - it was a security footage. It was from the bank and the pictures were _moving_. Vera wouldn’t make more than that from the reflection.

The men shared a weird look and then eyed her. She had no idea what that meant. Officer Collins made a _hush, hush_ gesture at the other one and the man left.

He touched the recording button on his device. Turned it off?

“You have quite a temper,” he said, voice filled with emotion she couldn’t recognize. His eyes examined her thoughtfully.

“What?” she asked, confused. What was he talking about?

He pushed the laptop aside and leaned forward, hands resting on a table, spread widely.

“You disarmed the robber,” he pointed out and _oh_. She shuddered at the memory of the gun going off in her hands.

“Yes. I was lucky I didn’t end up _dead_.” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat.

“Your arrival in the bank was also…disturbing.”

She blinked, not following. “Uhm. What do you mean?”

“You came, what, two minutes before the robbery went down?” He watched her with his eyebrow raised. His eyes were hard. Cold.

She was beginning to understand. She couldn’t voice her thoughts though. It was absurd. He sure knew that?

“Well?” he stood up, hovering over her now.

“You think I am one of the robbers?” she asked incredulously.

“No. The exact opposite, actually,” he sounded offended. “I think you knew the robbery was about to happen and you helped the Devil to take them down.”

 _What_?!

She couldn’t believe him. She heard wrong. “You think… you think that I work with the Devil? _No to si ze mě děláte prdel_.”

She jumped as his fist hit the table.

“Do you know who he is?” he growled at her and she deflected, startled by the razors in his voice. He looked like he was going to rip her to pieces. She tried to make herself as small as possible, sinking into her chair. Tears found its way back to her eyes.

She was sick of today. _She was._

The door flew open and someone rushed in.

“Dammit, Collins! Get out of here, now,” the man demanded. Officer Collins stung him with his eyes.

“Of course, Sergeant.” He gave them both a wry smile and left the room. The door closed again.

Vera was aware she was hyperventilating. She was crying again and her vision got blurry. _God_. She just wanted to _go home_. Away from evil officers, robbers, guns, shooting, blood and _oh god_ , there had been _so much blood_.

She covered her mouth as she let out a sob. And another.

“Hey, hey!” A hand appeared on her shoulder.

She leaped aside from it. It disappeared quickly. A black man with a badge on a string around his neck was step away from her, hands in _I-come-in-peace_ gesture. His eyes were worried.

“Hey, I am not gonna hurt you, alright. _Calm down_.”

 _Never tell anyone to calm down. It doesn’t calm them down_. She made herself to take one _slow_ deep breath. It helped.

And then she started sobbing again.

“Sorry, wrong choice of words.” He left and came back with a box of tissues. “Mind if I sit?” he asked her and Vera felt like he was actually _asking_ her. He wouldn’t sit except she let him. It was nice.

She gave a nod.

“Thank you.” He sat and she reached for the tissues. She might actually like the guy. “I am Sergeant Brett Mahoney. I am _deeply_ sorry for my colleague’s behaviour.”

 _Yeah, it would feel better if he would_. She gave him another nod. He didn’t speak again. They were sitting in silence, interrupted only by her sobs. Vera was trying to get herself together. Her breathing was getting back to normal.

“Can I go home?” she broke the silence asking the question she wanted to ask since forever.

He smiled politely. “Yes, yes you can.” Pause. “But then I would need you to come back soon to finish your statement,” he told her, voice filled with regrets.

Vera whined. She couldn’t help herself. “Fine, fine. What do you want to know?”

Sergeant Mahoney reached for the recorder and pushed the button. “Just few more questions, I promise. What happened after the vigilante known as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen appeared?”

She really didn’t understand why they asked her. They had a _freaking security footage_. She exhaled.

“He knocked out two robbers with his billy clubs. Attacked the third. He was superior, he beat him fast and then-” _it went all to shit,_ “the last man, I think it was their leader, he was giving them orders earlier… he grabbed me and held a gun against my head.”

It was _gone_ now. He wasn’t here to hurt her anymore. No gun pointing at her. _Calm down_.

She continued. “He told the Devil that if he moved, he would… he… uhm, he said he would blow my brains out.” Her voice broke, but she went on. She wanted it to be over. “He ordered him to put his hand behind his head, kneel down. He did. And then, then one of the unconscious men woke up and he made a move to get his gun. And I thought- uhm. I thought that if he gets his gun and the Devil won’t move, we both end up getting shot.” She really, really didn’t want to say the word _dead_ again.

“So… I, uhm. I tried to grab the gun of the man who was holding me and elbowed him. He let go. There were two gunshots. He hit me; I ended up on the floor. When I turned around, the first man was lying on the ground again and the Devil was fighting the leader, knocked him out. He took his club and left. Well, almost, I noticed the other club so I… I kinda tossed it at him. Then the police arrived and he was gone,” she finished and felt the relief washed over her.

_Am I going home now?_

Sergeant Mahoney had been nodding during her whole story-telling, hadn’t interrupted her once. He turned off the recorder.

“Alright. Thank you.” He hesitated, looking like he wanted to tell her something, but wasn’t sure about her reaction. “You were very brave, Ms. Machackova. I believe you’re right and you would both end up dead.”

She gave him an unamused chuckle. “More like _stupid_. And he still got shot.” She looked away. “And the security guards…”

“Not your fault. None of it.” She eyed him, surprised by his gentle voice. “I saw the security footage. I can’t show it to any civilian, but you were there, so…” He stood up and spun the laptop so she could see the screen. 

He clicked on few icons and the video started playing. Vera wasn’t sure why was he showing her this.

A black haired girl was grabbed by the robber, gun at her head. The Devil fell to his knees. She knew what was about to come next. She had lived it.

Pause.

“See?” A black finger pointed at the man reaching for his gun. He clicked on some icon multiple times and when the footage started playing again, it was in a slow motion. “Like a second before you elbow your attacker, he tilts his head, as if he knows what you’re about to do – hell, he actually might. The moment you move, he moves too and then he’s shot. If he hadn’t moved, he could have been dead. Or in a critical condition. The bullet only hit his arm, see.” She thought she heard a smile in the sergeant’s voice.

She was oblivious to the rest of the footage despite having eyes on it.

“You managed to save his life and yours too.” He closed the laptop. “Now let’s get you home, hm?”

She looked up and saw kindness in his face.  “Thank you.”

They left the police station together. Vera tried to be invisible while walking among the officers, but she could sense them staring. Somewhere along the way, he gave her back her purse. She was pleased. She had no idea when she had lost it. It slipped her mind since she had been kinda occupied before.

Outside, Sergeant Mahoney stopped at one of the police cars and she followed his example, standing at the back door, waiting for his invitation. He turned to her, surprised. “You prefer the backseat?”

She was confused. “Uhm. No. But I thought-”

He huffed. “Please. Backseat is for criminals. Come on.” He gestured to the front seat and she obeyed. “Address?” he asked as she closed her door. She had to admit it felt better, sitting in the front. 

She told him the address and he just nodded, obviously knowing it. The ride was quiet for a long time. She fidgeted with the apron of her uniform.

“Can I ask you something? Off the record?”

Her head snapped up to him. What could he possibly want to know? “Okay,” she agreed carefully.

“I was just wondering. You met him before? The Devil?” His eyes observed her attentively, not really watching the road.

Vera was torn. Should she tell him about the mugging? She never went to police with it - but what could he possibly do to her? She decided to stick with the truth. It wasn’t a crime, to be assaulted, after all.

“Yes. Yes I did,” she admitted. “But I don’t know who he is,” she added immediately.

He laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Does anyone even know him? He’s a ghost. All we know is that he’s a man with extraordinary fighting skills and ears tuned to the cries-for-help channel. What happened?”

“I was jumped in the alley. Tried to fight the guy off and ran. There was another one.” She gulped. “With a knife. The Devil saved me.” _And I gave him a midnight snack_.

He remained silent for a while.

“You never came to the precinct to report it.” It wasn’t an accusation. Simply a note.

“No. I…I haven’t seen their faces.” _Liar_.  “There was no point. He saved me. I wanted to get home as fast as possible.”

The car slowed down, then stopped. He looked at her, plea to face him too. She did. He still wore kind expression, sympathetic.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” she said simply. She didn’t know how else to express her gratitude.

“It’s alright. Get some rest.” She nodded and opened the door. He touched her forearm and she turned to face him once again. “And remember. Tonight, you’re the hero.”

She froze when an idea appeared in her mind. “If anyone asks you…reporters, anyone, you won’t give any name, right?” Oh god, she would _not_ want that. Like _at all._

“No. Of course not. It’s classified. One customer, four employees. Four robbers. The vigilante. No more, no less. ”

Vera let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks. Good night.”

“Night.”

When the apartment door closed behind her, she rested her head against it. She eyed her watch, shocked it was still in one piece. It was past midnight. She would shower, but she was too exhausted. She made her way to the bedroom, tossed her purse next to the bed, carefully stripped of her coat and uniform without using her left hand and put her upper part of her pyjamas on.

She landed on the bed without attempt to move ever again in her life. She had never got to covering herself before falling in a restless sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We had foggy day and brief encounter with our beloved Foggy. We let the Devil out and Sgt.Mahoney, the righteous cop he is, came to the rescue as well. Also, over 5 000 words!
> 
>  
> 
> _Ježiši Kriste. – Jesus Christ._  
>  Doprdele. – Shit.  
> Bože, stůj při mě. - God, stand by my side./ Heaven help me.  
> No to si ze mě děláte prdel. – You gotta be fucking kidding me. /You gotta be shitting me.
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – No light, no light


	9. Stalker extraordinaire (Matt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Claire called me. She wanted me to check up on you since you were shot. And you supposedly didn’t head right back home like a rational person would. You know. If a rational person ran around beating shit out of bad guys and let them shoot at him while he’s in his pajamas.”  
> “It’s not pajamas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intermezzo no.2.

 

Matt woke up at knocking on the door. He muffled himself up in the covers even more. He didn’t want to get up just yet. He was _exhausted_. And it was Saturday and there was nothing wrong with sleeping in.

“Get off your lazy ass, Murdock. You know I’ll let myself in anyway.” And yeah, it was Foggy.

If he wanted to let himself in, so be it. Matt was not about to move. Nope. He relaxed his body with an attempt to sleep. He distantly heard his best friend sigh.

\---

The light _thud_ and rustling of thin paper woke him up the second time. Foggy’s scent, heat and heartbeat washed over him. He was standing by his bed. “You’ve been busy.”

Yes, yes he was. Which was why he wanted to sleep, dammit. “Go away,” he grumbled into his pillow, not caring Foggy wouldn’t be able to understand his words. He would figure it out for sure.

The air shifted as Foggy threw his hands in the air. “Matthew!”

 _Ew_ , do not call him that. Also, no need to be so loud. He would hear him just fine more than a few streets over _, thank you very much_.

Matt sighed and pushed himself up. Pain throbbed in his arm. Shot. Right.

Foggy’s heart picked up as Matt turned around to face him. “You look like shit.”

He _felt_ like shit. One of the robbers had scored a lucky kick right to his healing ribs on his left side. His muscles were worn out, his joints hurt and he managed to pull triceps on his good arm while following around a police car with Vera across the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen. He hadn’t slept well. He hadn’t slept _enough_.

Oh and he had lost approximately two pints of blood, because he had been shot. So there was that.

He ran his better hand over his face. “Well, you _did_ just wake me up.”

“Cut the crap, Murdock. What happened?” his voice was angry, but Matt knew better. He was angry with him, no kidding, but he worried. And Matt would love him for that if only he didn’t insist on socializing at this hour - as he listened to the noise of his apartment building and _his city,_ he guessed it was about half past eight.

He tapped the newspaper Foggy had tossed at his bed earlier. “Didn’t you read?” he mocked him slightly, trying to keep the conversation somewhat light.

Foggy sighed. “I didn’t have to.” And okay, what? He didn’t recall his friend being around during the robbery. Perhaps he heard from someone. News travelled fast in Hell’s Kitchen. He didn’t need to listen to know people were talking about it. Everyone would want to hear about an armed robbery.

“Claire called me. She wanted me to check up on you since you were shot. And you supposedly didn’t head right back home like a rational person would. You know. If a rational person ran around beating shit out of bad guys and let them shoot at him while he’s in his pajamas.”

“It’s not pajamas.”

Foggy didn’t react to his protest.

“Where did you go? If you tell me you went out to stop another armed robbery I’ll punch you.” He was getting impatient. “And if you lie to me, I’ll know. I don’t need to hear your heartbeat to tell when you’re not telling me the truth.”

He wouldn’t. Ever since Foggy learnt about Matt’s moonlighting as a vigilante, he somehow managed to smell his lies. If his friend wasn’t so open and honest about everything, he would suspect him hiding superpowers.

“I wanted to check up on one of the victims.”

“Why?”

 _Because she nearly got shot in her head._ “Uhm-”

“Seriously, Murdock. Why would you check up on _one_ victim? Why not the others? The newspaper says that except the guards, who _died_ , no one else got hurt.”

He hated when Foggy was being reasonable - outside their practise anyway, it came in handy there.

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay, Foggy. Simple as that.” He did not want to talk about the details. “I wanted to know she got home safe.”

“Of course it’s about a woman,” he accused him.

“Foggy-”

“You stalked her.”

“I DID NOT!” he objected impatiently, not following why it was so important for him.

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“I was making sure she was okay. You know…. _okay_ given the circumstances.”

”You were shot!” his friend burst out. ”Probably lost a lot of blood! Claire had to stitch you up! You needed rest. Couldn’t it wait?”

“No?”

Foggy huffed. “You’re a professional stalker. Did you cut a strand of her hair so you knew her smell and you could follow her around? ”

“You don’t understand, Foggy!”

“Then make me!”

“She nearly got shot in her head because of me!”

And _shit_ he did _not_ mean to say that. Yet, it was the truth.

She was _crazy_. Stupidly, stupidly brave. She had realized what had been about to happen and acted. He couldn’t have gotten to her in time. He wouldn’t be able to dodge the bullet fired at him if he had had to keep still for another second for her sake. So _she_ had taken the gun pointed at her head, _with an unlocked safety lock_ , and had gotten rid of with _by herself_. The worst thing was that it had been _his fault_ she had had to do it. Because he had gotten _sloppy_.

Foggy’s frantically beating heart was the only significant sound in the room. He didn’t breathe. Matt hid his face in his hands. _God_. She could have been dead and he would be to blame. The girl - writing rhymes on his best friends cups, _not exactly boxing_ , babbling when nervous, listening to the songs he didn’t understand, _can’t imagine hitting people_ yet standing up for herself (and him, apparently) - could have _died_.

He slowly exhaled when he realized he had been holding his breath.

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?” his friend demanded in a weak voice. He sat next to Matt on the bed, comforting hand on his forearm. Matt rearranged his hands just a little so Foggy could make out his words.

“It was my fault. I was sloppy. Too slow. I should have seen it coming and I _didn’t_. Two of four were down, I was fighting another one and-“ he groaned at the memory. “He got to her. He was the only one standing and I was too far to do anything about it. He said he would-” _blew her brains out_ , “he would shoot her in her head if I made another move.”

Foggy’s worried inhale was loud in his ears. “That’s… that’s not all of it, is it?”

Matt desperately shook his head. “No. One of them came around. Reached for his gun. I knew he would aim it at me and shoot once he got his hands on it.”

Foggy’s heart made a very, very weird sound and Matt whined.

“I _couldn’t_ move, Foggy. He meant it, he would _kill_ her. _I could not_ let that happen _._ ” He would have had her blood on his hands. He didn’t want _anyone_ ’s blood on his hands. But he _knew_ her. Her scent, her nervous laugh, her embarrassment.

Her voice saying ‘ _goodnight, Matt’_.

 _Christ_.

His friend remained silent. He was giving him time. Matt did and did _not_ appreciate it at the same time.

“She was terrified, Foggy. And I heard it, the jump in her pulse once she realized the other guy was reaching for his weapon and then there was the _craziest_ change in her heartbeat when she decided to _disarm_ him. She _fucking_ took an _unlocked_ _gun_ aimed at _her_ _head_ and ditched it away. She was lucky it didn’t hit her when it went off. And I couldn’t do anything but try to get away from the bullet heading _my_ way at the same time.”

And _shit_ he had tears of helplessness in his eyes now.

Foggy was sweating and burning hot and _oh_ , he was hugging him. That felt nice. He was leaning into his injured arm, but to hell with it. He seemed to realize it as Matt let out a small noise of pain. He immediately let go.

“Jeez. Sorry.”  Matt waved it off. “Hey. She’s fine though, right? You’re the one who was shot, by some miracle _only_ in your arm. We are all living and kicking. And it sooo wasn’t your fault. You can’t do magic, you’re no freaking Captain America, Matty. ”

It totally _was_ his fault. But they would argue about it for hours, no one winning. Also, he didn’t think Captain America had magic.

Matt sighed. “It’s not just that. The police took her in to give a statement and some asshole interrogated her, treating her as if she was a _criminal_. He was really rude, intimidating her. She apparently came into the bank minutes before the closing time and then the robbery went down and he thought she was there to _help me_ with taking the robbers down.”

“Huh. That’s a new one.”

“Yeah. Remind me to buy Brett extra cigars or send him a fruit basket or something. I don’t know what would happen if he didn’t come.”

Foggy chuckled. “Brett came to her rescue?” Matt nodded and felt a smile attacking his own lips. “Of course, he did.”

“He was really nice to her. Showed her the footage. Took her home.” He remembered the flutter of her heart as Mahoney had told her _she was the hero that night_. He had to find a way to repay him.

“Aaalright. Stalker much?” Foggy mocked him again and Matt would roll his eyes at him. “I mean come on! She was with _Brett_.”

He had a point. Brett was a good honest cop. It might smell like stalking. But he did worry, okay?

Matt decided to share his earlier encounter with her as well. “I actually saved her few days ago.”

Foggy seemed surprised. “You did?”

“Yeah. Mugging. They were pissed at her though.” He could practically hear Foggy frown. And he really shouldn’t grin at that memory, since she had been in serious danger, but… ”By the time I came there, one of them was bleeding from his face and crouching. Her hand was bleeding too. My guess is she has an excellent right hook and sharp knee.” He could hear his friend’s heart jump again.

“So she a real badass, huh? It shouldn’t surprise me that you have a crush on her.”

“I do not.” He did _not_.

“Fine. Stalkerish tendencies then. I bet you know her timetable already.”

Well, he had an idea about it. It wasn’t his fault. They had met in the café _and_ in the gym. It couldn’t have been prevented (if he had been paying more attention and hadn’t walk in a gym which had been obviously already occupied). Just like their encounters with dangerous criminals, apparently.

“She gave me an energy bar.”

“WHAT?!” his friend squeaked loudly.

 _My ears, Foggy. I need them._ _A lot._

“When I helped her the first time. She asked me if I was done for the night and gave me some energy bar and a bottle of water. Tasted good. No chemicals.” It was a ridiculous and also an _incredibly_ _sweet_ gesture.

His friend burst out laughing, tears in his eyes and Matt grinned again. Foggy seemed to be unable to catch his breath. “Oh, man. She’s one of a kind, isn’t she?”

Matt was painfully aware of the change in his own voice, but he couldn’t help himself. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should have had atmosphere quite similar to the first one, because best damn avocados at law, but somehow Matt’s guilt and angst got in a way. Sorry. Hope the ending fixed it.


	10. 7) …I need to make it right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you walk into a door frame? It’s cool. Happens to the best of us. I mean, you’re the example of it… that it happens. Even to the best, that is. I am gonna shut up. Want an icepack?”

_Contact lenses are shit_. That was her first thought when she woke up. Her eyes burnt so much she could cry and she _did,_ since the crumpled material was stinging in her eyes. Vera touched it to remove them, when a sharp pain ran through her hand. And of _fucking_ course, she had a splint on her wrist which was contused from yesterday, because yesterday had been the best day of her life. And they said TGIF.

TGIF, _my ass_.

She blindly reached the bathroom, removing her contacts with her right hand. She splashed cold water in her eyes - it relieved her pain a little. She used her moistening eye-drops too. She still felt like a zombie.

Vera took a very long shower. She enjoyed the feeling of hot water hitting her body in tiny drops and  washed her hair, which was unpleasantly difficult when using only one hand. It was painful to use towel properly too. It was _annoying_. But hey, she was alive.

With eyes still burning she put on her glasses rather than a new pair of lenses and found her old, comfortable and warm hoodie with sweatpants.

Her phone was one big red notification. She had 5 missed calls from Mrs. Walker, multiple texts, and yes, precisely eighteen missed calls from Terri. Guess she didn’t have to tell her about the adventure with gunmen and the Devil.   _The Devil_. The picture of his arm stained with blood flashed through her mind. She hoped that he was alright. Like ‘ _alright’_ given the circumstances. _Alive_.

She called her boss first. Mrs. Walker almost cried Vera’s ear off - she had to move the phone away. She kept apologizing for sending Vera there (“It’s alright, Mrs. Walker, it wasn’t your fault.”), told her multiple times not to worry about the money, they had insurance and she would take care of it (“Thank you, Mrs. Walker. That’s very kind of you.”), reassured Vera she wouldn’t have to pay for the new uniform, _don’t be silly,_ and warned her that if she came at work on Sunday, she would fire her, because Vera needed to rest (“Uhm. Thanks. Monday morning?”). It was exhausting.

Vera checked the time so she knew if it was safe to call Terri. It was almost eleven, so she went for it. She _did_ have a few missed calls from her after all.

Terri didn’t make it to the date last night. Well, she waited in front of the cinema when Mrs. Walker called her, so she allegedly stood up her fashion designer, texting him – _sorry, my friend is held hostage in a bank robbery_. Vera would love to see the man’s face reading it.

Terri asked her whether she could come over. Vera’s apartment was a mess and _she_ was a mess, but she agreed anyway. Her friend would come around three, so Vera tried to make the flat at least presentable. It was a pain. Literally.

They decided pizza and movie, which, _gross_ , pizza as a late lunch - Vera loved it.  Terri brought wine and A Dog’s Purpose, because Vera hadn’t seen it and apparently it was a must. She cried like a baby and despite Terri denying it, she knew her friend cried too. They had a great time.

“So, another adventure with the Devil, huh?” she brought up and Vera sighed. She should have seen it coming.

“It appears so. I would rather skip this one, to be honest.”

“Yeah, no kidding. An armed robbery. _Jeez_ , girl. I can’t let you go anywhere alone,” her tone was light, playful, but her face screamed worry. Terri wasn’t the kind of person who would worry too much. Vera was a bad influence on her.

“Sorry,” she sighed again and then smiled. “At least I saw him fight this time. He _is_ a freaking ninja.”

Terri took the bait. “Oh, do tell. Was there any flipping involved?”

“ _Yep_.”

“Damn. Did you-”

“Nope. I did not check out his butt.”

“ _Oh, honey_. How many more opportunities you think you’ll get?”

“None, I hope,” she admitted and they both laughed.

“And no snacks this time?”

Vera’s lips twitched in amusement. She would never live this one down. “No. But I did throw him his billy club.”

Terri made a sound of jealousy. “You touched his billy club! _Lucky you_.”

“…Sounds dirty when you put it like that.”

“Vera!” her friend cried out in disbelief and laughed at her. “I can’t believe _you_ just said that. I mean, me, sure, but you? Oh my god, I corrupted you! I corrupted a poor Czech girl!”

Vera couldn’t stop smiling. “I am a human being, okay? And I may need glasses or contacts, but I still _do_ have eyes. Even though I didn’t give it much thought, it’s impossible to ignore that he _is fine._ ”

“It’s his fault. It’s the outfit. It’s very tight in all the right places, isn’t it?“

“Of course it is.” This wasn’t happening. They did not droll over a vigilante who had saved her life just yesterday. Vera huffed. “I mean, he might need it for fighting? Loose clothes would be probably getting in his way.”

Terri eyed her thoughtfully and shrugged. “I guess.”

They were silent for a moment. It didn’t felt bad.

“So you gonna see the fashion designer again?”

“Nah. He’s an idiot. He texted me that I’m the liar who lies and it’s pathetic to make out an excuse like this. I sent him a link to the article. He didn’t answer.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Could have worn designer’s shoes. Damn shame,” she winked at Vera. Silence followed.

“Another movie?”

“Hell, yes!”

Terri left around nine p.m. after a long discussion about the perks of being single. Vera knew that choosing How to Be Single _had been_ a hazard. They laughed their asses off though. Vera thanked Terri for the afternoon and evening and Terri smacked her arm for being silly and hugged her. Vera was truly lucky to have her. She cleaned up the pizza boxes and the glasses, took a short shower and decided to go to bed early.

She checked the website about the Devil though – no one saw him that night or they hadn’t share. It troubled her – on the other hand, if he would be running around just a night after getting shot, it would worry her even more. She wondered if he had someone who worried about him and cared for him – as in for the person behind the mask. She hoped he did.

As she was falling asleep, she remembered Sergeant Mahoney and what people said about the Devil in general – that he heard the screams, he knew about punches before his enemy threw it. Was it a sixth sense, or was it just his hearing being extended to such an unimaginable level?  Superpower? It seemed ridiculous, but _aliens_ and _supersoldiers_ were a thing, so.... Would he hear if someone called out for him specifically? (She hoped he didn’t hear everything. Or he wasn’t listening all the time at least, because hearing her conversation with Terri today might actually traumatize him for life.)

Vera wasn’t tempted to try. _Nope, not at all_. He had gotten shot recently and what would she even do if he came? (Would he recognize her? Had he, when they had ran into each other in the bank or was she just one of the tens, hundreds of people he had saved, who most likely blended together in his mind?) So no. No talking to air.

Yet, she said his _name_ in a loud whisper. “Hey, _Devil_. Uhm. Hope you okay. Take care,” she sighed. “Also, sorry for getting you shot. Kinda. ” She fell silent and then whined, hiding her face in her hands, ignoring the pain it caused.

“Oficiálně jsem se zbláznila.”

She should be sleeping.  So she did. She dreamed in black.

\---

Vera spent Sunday idling. She slept in, ordered take out, didn’t finish the clean-up she started yesterday (before Terri came), because her wrist was still sensitive. She decided to postpone shopping for the next day for the very same reason.

Instead, she kept Nina company – bugged her – most of the afternoon. Nina’s husband went to work – Vera couldn’t gather enough courage to ask where was he working, the man was unpleasant and she didn’t want to know a single thing about him. It was rude of her, but she couldn’t help herself.  Of course, Nina asked about her hand. Vera played it off. (“I slipped in work on Friday, wet floor. It’s nothing serious, rather annoying, really. This is an excellent tea, what brand is it?”) She left when the husband returned at five p.m.

Rest of the day she spent socializing too. She entered the group chat with her friends from Czechia to find out that Marky’s boyfriend finally popped the question. Vera was so very happy for her. Marky promised to wait with the wedding until Vera would come back. Vera wouldn’t miss it in any case. Even if she decided to stay in US for another century, she would attend the wedding. Marky also promised her to bring laptop when choosing her wedding dress, because Anna and Jitka would help her too. Vera would hug her if she could. For now, they discussed the colour combo. Vera wasn’t surprised they settled on the lime green. She didn’t particularly like the colour, yet, it seemed like a right choice for Marky.

Vera called her mom too, repeating the story about the wet floor and her being clumsy – because _mom, the autumn here is gross and it couldn’t have been prevented and you know me, I’ve never learned how to land safely when falling._ She felt a sting of guilt for lying to her, but if her mum found out about the bank, she would take the first flight to US and dragged Vera home, visa and all these stuff be damned. She would find a way.

Her father and brother gave her a wave since they were home as well and Vera couldn’t help homesickness. She missed them. No one make fun of her for being short anymore. (She wasn’t, she was over 5’ 6’’, _thank you very much_ , but her brother was a freaking Yetti. She also missed his bear hug.) Vera ended the call before she could start crying. She cried afterwards.

She was an emotional wreck at the end of the day. She wouldn’t do anything at all. She wrote a list of groceries to buy, prepared clothes for tomorrow and ran out of things to do. She really needed to go shopping – not just because of the clothes, but also for a book or two for moments like this. She took a long bath because she had no idea what else to do and then lied down with quiet relaxing music in her ears. The sleep didn’t come for a long time, but eventually, she entered the dreamland. Again, Vera wasn’t dreaming in colours.

\---

Vera knew Monday would be a pain. By the time she entered the café, she was freezing, because it was windy and drizzling again, and the _floor was wet_ , so she nearly slipped for real. At least Mrs. Walker wasn’t in; Vera found a new uniform on a counter though, so she presumed it was meant for her. There was no nametag. Shame.

She was surprised to meet yet another barista she hadn’t encountered before. Her name was Michelle and apparently she came back from two months’ vacation with her boyfriend. They travelled all the way around Asia and she obviously hadn’t narrated the story to anyone, because she wouldn’t shut up. Michelle was friendly and vigorous and she reminded her of Terri.

That was the only pleasant part of Monday.

Sadly, Olivia was on the shift with them. She didn’t join the conversation (monologue, mostly) and kept shooting both girls annoyed looks. The one time she seemed to be interested in them was when Michelle asked Vera about her wrist. She repeated her story. Satisfied, Olivia came back to ignoring them. She was a little pale, her skin was more olive (ha!) that day – Vera wasn’t malicious, but it served her right. If it wasn’t for her, she would not be engaged in the robbery, wouldn’t be intimidated by a cop with anger issues or almost got shot. It was good to know that at least Olivia hadn’t been lying about being sick.

The place started to fill with customers. Vera was slow. She was definitely favouring her left hand. Some people complained about her tempo, some were giving her sympathetic looks. She noticed that she was beginning to recognize regular customers, who smiled at her and she smiled back. It was nice.

By lunch time, her hand was throbbing. She was truthfully grateful, when Mrs. Walker took her aside and they went to her office. She gave her a new nametag – _man_ , that woman was fast. She asked her about her hand and Vera didn’t have the heart to admit she was in pain. That poor woman looked unjustifiable guilty already.

When she came back to the counter, Olivia eyed her suspiciously. Yet, she didn’t say a word.

When an _officer of law_ showed up, Vera froze. She did not want to come back to the station or talk about the robbery with _anyone else_. It turn out he was there just for coffee. The sinking feeling in her stomach disappeared. In fact, when she served him, he ordered a muffin with two coffees - for Will and Brett. Vera hoped there were no other Bretts at their precinct and added a smiley face with _Thanks. V,_ on Brett’s cup. If she was wrong, the receiver of the cup would be confused at most. If she was right, sgt.Mahoney would get her _thank you_.

After her shift, she went shopping and stopped by Nina’s flat to ask her for some reading until she would buy her own (she didn’t like the idea of going to a mall with her injured wrist – buying groceries hadn’t agreeable either and she needed to at least try to tidy up at Fogwell’s that night). Nina, the cinnamon roll she was, took three of her favourite books and carried them to Vera’s. They discussed the rent – Vera promised she would send her the money in the evening. She did before she headed to the gym.

The clean-up was exacting and, once again, painful - Vera couldn’t help using her left hand. She borrowed an ice pack. She took off the splint and sighed contentedly as it touched her skin - it was incredibly relieving. She tried frozen vegetables at home, but _damn_ , the pack was soft and cooling against the still present light swelling. Vera honestly considered taking one of them home. She would return it, of course, or paid for it, because it would be worth it. _So worth it_.

She was almost finished with the clean-up when the intruder came.

“Hey, Matt!” she let him know about her presence and he gave a smile in her general direction.

“Hello, Vera,” he paused. “No music today?” He headed her way (or the way of the ring and punching bags, it was hard to tell). She couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to be crouching slightly to his right side.

She huffed. “Nope. No work-out, no music. These are the rules.” She wondered _why_ she hadn’t put some music on. It would be much more pleasant.

Matt frowned. “What happened to not exactly boxing?”

Oh, right. He couldn’t see her splint. “I had an encounter with an old friend, didn’t go well.” His frown deepened.  “The floor, Matt. I had an encounter with the floor and my hand is,” _in pain, bruised, contused, not broken_ , ”something. The ice-pack I borrowed from here earlier helped though.”

“Oh.” _Here comes the head tilt._ “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Plus, it’s mostly just irritating.” She eyed him again, and yes, he _was_ crouching. “What happened to you?”

He froze. “What?”

“Your right shoulder? You huddle a little.”

His jaw clenched with an audible click and his lips became a thin line. Vera was startled by the sudden change in his expression.

“None of your business,” he practically growled and Vera subconsciously took a step back.

He looked scary. She didn’t know he _could_ look scary. Matt was like the nicest and the most polite guy she had ever met. He was smiling when she made an ass of herself and graciously ignored when she put foot in her mouth. She had no idea what she did wrong to make him so _angry._ He never got angry.

Which was _exactly_ why it confused her that it felt _so_ familiar.

 “Uhm. Did you walk into a door frame? It’s cool. Happens to the best of us. I mean, you’re the example of it… that it happens. Even to the best, that is. I am gonna shut up. Want an icepack?” she babbled while her mind raced, confusing pictures flickering in front of her eyes.

_Sharp-edged jaw with stubble. Full lips with a split. Black fabric._

He ran a hand through his hair, but didn’t say a word as if he didn’t trust his voice. The silence was deafening.

“I’ll get you an icepack.” Vera crossed the room to get it from the freezer, the image of his anger swimming in her mind.

 _The small movement of his head_ every time he was unsure what to do or what she was trying to say. The fact that his right shoulder – or his _right arm -_ was apparently injured and he had gotten so _, so_ _mad_ when she asked about it.

Many, many tiny details were suddenly clicking into place and Vera was getting dizzy. She rested against a wall in the supply room and spent precious moments with her eyes closed. It was ridiculous. She was getting _paranoid_.

Was she?

It was so absurd that it actually made sense. The familiarity of his gestures. The same injury. The same build. The _head tilt_. The _freaking_ same pissed expression. And his _voice_. She liked Matt’s voice, somehow soothing. What would it sound like if he tried to disguise it, roughen it?

And the famous hearing of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. When person lost one sense, another one enhanced, right? Could it be so extreme? So extreme that he would hear people _screaming all over the city_ and couldn’t stop himself from doing something about it?

That was insane. He was _blind_. How would he possibly fight anyone? The memory of the Devil moving just a second before she had taken the gun in her hand arose in her mind – he had known what she had been about to do without seeing her. But he aimed his billy clubs with such a precision, how would he possibly do that if he couldn’t see his target? He caught whatever she threw in his direction, no matter how lame the throw was. He ducked when someone tried to punch him - how, if he couldn’t see his opponent? Could he _hear_ him so well? Could he hear her now, freaking out in the back of the room?

Vera remembered her first thought when he had walked into the gym. _What did blind man want in a gym after hours?_ Obviously he wouldn’t want people to watch him when he misjudged the distance between him and the punching bag or missed it completely.

 _Or_ he wouldn’t want people to see what he was truly capable of. Talking punching, kicking and flipping. _Defying gravity_.

She exhaled slowly. _No doprčič._ It made _a perfect_ sense. Matt was a hero and really, it shouldn’t have surprise her at all. He was an attorney. He was helping people. And when he wasn’t saving them with his lawyer skills, the vigilante came to the rescue.

 _Now, get it together. Go back, don’t freak out in front of him and go home_. _Don’t say anyone a single word._ She grabbed the icepack from the freezer and headed back.

Matt was sitting on his usual spot, one hand rubbing his eyes, second in his lap. He was toying with his glasses. She approached him carefully. He winced, acknowledging her presence, but otherwise he didn’t move. She awkwardly stood near him.

Matt surprised her, when he suddenly spoke up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me to snap like that.” His apology sounded sincere, his voice a little hoarse. And that _voice_. How could she not recognize that voice?

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have queried. Everyone can have a bad day.” She would know. Her Friday was hell. Apparently, his was as well.

He lowered his hand, but didn’t look up. “It’s stupid. Some guy walked into me, been a jerk about it, bystanders had to help me pick up my stuff. I don’t like being treated like glass, but I _hate_ when people are being harsh, ignorant.” He lifted his head and for the first time, Vera saw his eyes.

She couldn’t help it. She gasped.

He seemed to freeze for a second and then his hand shot up to put the glasses on. Vera stopped him in fast motion. _Fuck_ her splint.

He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“I don’t mind,” she breathed.

He seemed uncomfortable. “It tends to freak people out.” His eyes were directed to somewhere around her chin. She smiled, well-aware he was not able to see it. Could he _sense_ it though?

“I bet.”

The corners of his lips turned down. _Shit_.

“No, I mean….” _Don’t say it, don’t say it._ “They’re beautiful.” _There_. She said it. Well, they _were_.

His face was surprised. Then he lowered his head and soft ‘ _I don’t remember’_ left his lips quietly. Was it a statement? Was it a challenge? She decided on the latter.

“They’re brown.”

His sightless eyes _observed_ her timidly from under his eyelashes.

“Light. –ish. Like honey, I think? Um-um, more like whiskey.” He gave her a small smile and she couldn’t stop staring at him. The picture of him was now complete. She liked it. _A lot._ She decided she hated the glasses, they made him older. They made him Murdock, while hiding Matt.

His gaze was burning with intensity. Yet, his eyes were distant. She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“They’re distant,” she tried to explain her thoughts and caught herself with her head tilted - yes, she got it now, that unconscious movement. “Seeking. Yeah, seeking other worlds.... A better world. There is determination in them. To fight… and bring the better world here.”

So much for being subtle about discovering his night activities. She needed to learn how to shut up. Especially when she talked too much. It kept happening around him. And his other him. Also, she was aware she just made her crush painfully obvious. She _knew_ she had quite a crush on the Devil. And she couldn’t deny she was feeling drawn to Matt. How could she not to?

She was _so_ in trouble.

Matt didn’t make a sound. He didn’t move. Was he even breathing? His lips were slightly parted, eyes soft. Minutes passed. Vera had no idea what to say or do. She feared his reaction, because she definitely crossed a line. She couldn’t tear her sight away from the beautiful catastrophe she had caused.

He gulped. “Thank you,” he whispered in a voice full of emotion she didn’t recognize. She relaxed and smiled.

“Here.” She took his free hand and put the icepack in it. He awkwardly placed it on his shoulder, missing the spot he got shot in completely.

“What about yours?” He was still very quiet.

Vera frowned, confused. The icepack? “I returned mine in the freezer.”

Matt chuckled and shook his head. Then he looked at her with such intensity she would believe he was _seeing_ her.  “I mean your eyes. What do they look like?”

Vera’s breath stuck in her throat. The question caught her off guard. She wouldn’t expect him to want to know. He didn’t know how she looked like at all.

Did he?

“Uhm. Green and blue?” she offered uncertainly.

His lips twitched. “Really? That’s all you got?” 

“Ugh. I don’t know. Okay. It’s… not the vivid green like the grass in spring, it’s paler. And the blue isn’t the intense blue of sky on a sunny day, paler too, with traces of grey.” She closed her eyes trying to imagine them. “They’re seeking too.”

“For a better world?” he finished her statement. She didn’t open her eyes to see his expression.

“Yeah. Because they’re lost in this one,” she admitted quietly.

None of them spoke for a while and she looked at him. There was a hint of a smile playing on his lips, eyes closed. Feeling her gaze, he opened them too.

“Maybe they just need lights to guide them home,” he said and the tone of his voice, the words sent a shiver down her spine. 

Vera absently licked her lips, feeling her heart pounding violently in her chest. _Šmarja._ He couldn’t just say stuff like that! And sound like his words had a hidden meaning! He would give her a heart attack. And _God_ , what if he could hear it? She felt like whole Hell’s Kitchen had to hear her heartbeat right now.

His unfocused gaze was burning her and she had two options. Rambling on running. She decided on the second option this time. There had been enough babbling today.

“I… I’m gonna go and leave you to your-” _flipping_ , “-thing.” She gestured in front of her body in a chaotic motion like if that meant something. Also, she should _not_ expect him to know what she was doing. He probably sensed it or something. “So. Yeah. Uhm.”

She took her backpack, not caring she was wearing sweatpants for cleaning up and quickly reached the door, almost forgetting her coat.

Matt didn’t try to stop her. He was still sitting on his spot, face free of any emotion. A lonely sculpture of perfection.

“Night,” she murmured, not sure she wanted an answer. She flight out of the door.

Vera was streets away when she realized she didn’t turn off the lights nor she locked up the door. She didn’t return.  He sure would be alright.

Her mind was blank. She had no idea what to make of his words. And then there was the fact that he was running around in a black mask and had saved her life twice. Her head was spinning.

She walked the streets and opened the door to her building and apartment on autopilot. It went too easily – she forgot to lock up again. There was a spherical knob from the outside so the door couldn’t be opened without keys, but still. She needed to be more careful. Vera tapped the switch and soft light illuminated the small space. She let her backpack fall on the ground carelessly and hung her coat she hadn’t bother to button up despite the cold weather.

Matt’s intense eyes haunted her. She kicked her shoes off and headed to the bathroom, not bothering switching any other light on.

A hand with clothing covered her mouth and she yelped. She instinctively breathed in to let out a scream.

She felt dizziness to take over her. The smell awfully similar to their college lab filled her nose, sweet and bitter in her mouth.

 _No! No more breathing_.

Vera yanked her elbow back to her attacker’s abdomen. A shocked hiss and the fabric left her mouth. She turned around to the assailant and delivered her best right hook. It didn’t hurt less than the first time she had punched someone. She felt a fresh wave of respect towards Matt.

The man stumbled backwards. Before she could do anything else, someone grabbed her from behind again. What the hell?!

She tried to elbow him too, but his grip was strong, solid, her arms tightly attached to her body.

Vera took a quick breath in, but before she could scream, a hand covered her mouth again - which meant the man loosened his hold a little.

Vera started kicking around and scored a nice hit in man’s shin.

“Bitch,” he growled in her ear and she kicked the same spot again and again, determined. She freed herself, elbowed his face and turned around. She managed a kick to his knee her fitbox instructor would be proud of ( _Wow, nice, have you ever kicked someone down the stairs?_ ) _._ He almost dropped on the floor.

“Fuck!”

Something solid hit the back of her head painfully. Blackness danced on the edge of her vision. She lost her balance, reached out, trying to find something to stable herself on.

Someone grabbed her extended hand and pulled. Her back slammed against the wall. Man leaning on her, blocking her hands with one arm, placed the piece of fabric on her mouth again.

She was wrenching, kicking, jerking. He didn’t let go.

_Don’t breathe in._

_You mustn’t breathe._

_You mustn’t-_

_Must-_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, messy feelings and something that could be considered a cliffhanger. Nah. 
> 
> _Oficiálně jsem se zbláznila. – It’s official, I lost my mind._  
>  No doprčic. –Well, shit.  
> Šmarja. – Jesus-Maria/Jesus Christ. (short version, uhm…)
> 
>  
> 
> In case you’re wondering if I imagined Jared Padalecki (yes, SPN fan, sorry not sorry) when thinking about Vera’s brother, I didn’t. I thought about my own brother, because he _is a freaking Yetti and he gives the best bear hugs ever._
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – No light, no light (second part of the title from the previous regular chapter)


	11. 8) So long and lost (Are you missing me?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s the Devil, you know. He’s aware of all your sins. For each punch you landed, he’s gonna break one of your bones. You have around two hundreds and sixteen bones in your body. Is that gonna be enough? Or is he gonna need to use any of them twice?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn you because of violence in this chapter. So... you've been warned?

 

Vera blinked into the darkness. Something, no, _someone_ , was touching her arm and her waist. She couldn’t move. Her limbs were too heavy. She closed her eyes again.

…

An unpleasant feeling in her wrist brought her back into consciousness; it was pounding with pain. She frowned and tried to move it into a more comfortable position. She didn’t seem to control it – she couldn’t control anything. She fell back asleep.

…

Vera was woken up by a wave of cold.

She gasped, opening her eyes to the shadows. She realized there was cold water running down her face, down her arms, her torso, her legs.

She saw an empty bucket in front of her face - _someone had splashed a bucket of water on her_. She wanted to get the water of her eyes (because dammit, contacts, and they were dry again, pinching), but she couldn’t move. Her hands were restrained to the back of a chair. And her left wrist hurt like hell. Dull pain on the back of her head. Her ankles tied to the chair as well.

Memories filled her mind. Two men in her flat. The disgusting taste in her mouth. A blow to her head. Her back on the wall and fighting the urge to breathe.

She had lost.

“Slept well?” the man lowered the bucket and threw it away. Vera thought he might have been one of her attackers.

A fist collided with her cheek. Her head turned under the blow and she let out a cry of pain. _Yeah_ , he was one of her attackers. She had punched him in a face. She remembered it clearly now.

She tasted blood in her mouth. She _hated_ the taste of blood. The iron. She swallowed it. It didn’t help.

“Didn’t answer my question,” he spoke up again.

She turned her head back on him without saying a word, squinting to see him.

Who the hell was he? What did he want?

Another man entered her vision. She thought he had been in her apartment too. “I want extra money for this one,” he said to an empty space. He examined her and Vera shuddered under his glare. “She’s a wild one.”

He took a rapid step in her direction and she barely managed to close her eyes before he hit her other cheek. Sharp pain ran through it. She didn’t make a sound this time, she was proud of herself. But she was pretty sure that guy was left-handed. Her face was _throbbing_.

Vera didn’t expect the harsh kick in her shin. She gasped and opened her eyes again. The source of her pain was watching her with thoughtful expression. She returned the favour, her mind racing.

Who were they? Why would anyone want to hurt her? Or was it a coincidence? Did she interrupt them while robbing her place? That would be her. Robberies were _her thing_.

A terrible thought popped in her mind.

“Nah. She’s not that special,” he complained to someone Vera couldn’t see.

Was this about the bank robbery? Were these men part of their gang? Friends who wanted revenge? How did they find out about her? Not that it mattered. They somehow had and she definitely was an easier target than the Devil.

Finally, the third man showed his face. The room was poorly lit, but Vera’s eyes were slowly adjusting. She looked at the newcomer.

And she let out a shocked exhale when she recognized him. _No_. That was _impossible_. That’s-

“Don’t let her fool you,” the man warned them calmly. “It’s always the quiet ones. Although she’s not exactly a quiet one...”

Vera still couldn’t believe her eyes. They had hit her head too hard. She was _imagining_ it. There was no way a _cop_ was involved in her kidnapping. Even if he had angry issues.

“Collins,” she choked out and he smiled at her wryly.

“That’s Officer Collins to you, sweetheart.”

So this _was_ about the bank? Was mixed up with the robbers? Was that the reason he had been so pissed at her? Suspected she was with-

“So. Now when we are on the same page,” Collins continued and gestured to the other two men in a _hush_ gesture, his favourite, “we can actually have fun.” They took a step back while he approached her.

A shiver down her spine. Not a pleasant one. Vera couldn’t stand his gaze - she looked away.

A hand under her chin, a solid painful grip on her jaw and she was facing him again.

“It’s rude not to keep eye contact while being talked to.” He stared in her eyes, squinting. “Last time we spoke-” She lowered her gaze and he forced her head up again. Tears found its way to her cheeks. “-I asked you a question. You never answered it. Would you like to reconsider?”

Vera blinked against her tears in silent shock. This wasn’t about the robbery.

This was about _Matt_.

_And don’t. Do not even think his name._

Collins made a nodding movement with her head. Then he let go. “Good.”

Vera had no idea what to do. She couldn’t talk. She mustn’t talk and wasn’t even able to, because of the lump in her throat.

He bit his lip and shook his head in pretended disappointment, when she remained silent. “That’s unfortunate.” He kicked under her knee and she shrieked not wanting to scream out loud.

No one else moved. No one said anything. They were waiting. Collins raised his eyebrow. “Nothing? Really?”

She gathered her courage, looked at him and spoke up. It hurt. “I don’t know who he is.”

“Ah-eh.” He clicked his tongue. “Try again.”

“I don’t!” she burst out in impatience.

Why didn’t he believe her? What on Earth made him think the Devil told _her_ of all people?!

He sighed and eyed his buddies - Vera almost forgot they were here. She could tell he was getting ready to hit her.  She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the impact.

The air was knocked out of her as he kicked her stomach. She gasped and felt the chair swinging. _It would fell backwards,_ she realized.

She curled in a ball as much as she could and tried to hold her chin close to her chest. The feeling of free fall made her dizzy. Her back hit the floor hard, her head following it despite her effort.

The pain was so sharp her vision blurred. Her eyes were full of water.

Maybe she screamed. Probably not. She couldn’t breathe. Every time she tried, her torso was stabbed again.

Someone yanked her back into vertical position. Vera blinked her tears away. She didn’t know it was possible to be in _so much pain_. _Is it possible to pass out from pain?_

“Who is he?” hissed a voice next to her ear and she sobbed. She wasn’t able to think clear. Her mind was filled with one word, written in huge red letters.

 PAIN.

“M-M-…” she found her lips trembling, mouthing one letter.

_Where was he? Why wouldn’t he come for her? Wasn’t it what he was doing? Saving people?_

She knew she mustn’t tell them. But she wanted it to end. She wanted it to end _so_ badly. She was on the edge. Not his _full name_ , just- just-

No. NO. It was him. And he had saved her _live._ She couldn’t give up.

If she slipped again, she needed to play it off. M… Max? Too close. No. No. Merlin? Ridiculous. Too unusual. They wouldn’t believe her.

M… Michael? Wasn’t it a name of an archangel? She would _love_ that irony. She promised herself to stop obsessing over tv shows. If she survived this. So, Mike?  

 _Mike_.

It _suited_ him.

“What was it?” he hissed and she clenched her jaw - it screamed with pain because of the movement.

“Moron,” she breathed out and there was a second of nothing before another blow landed on her side, _stabbing_ her torso. And once more. She whined. Then he was gone. She realized her eyes were still closed. She opened them and saw Collins pacing away.

“Maybe she really doesn’t know,” one of her kidnappers offered in a small voice. Everyone ignored him.

Collins was back. He had something in his hand. _A baseball bat_. Vera swallowed the cry almost reaching her lips and he saw it. He _did_ , because he gave her a fucking _grin_.

Collins actually did answer his mate. “That would be too bad. We wouldn’t need her then. And after seeing our faces…” he gave her a crooked smile saying ‘ _isn’t that a shame_ ’ and winked.

 _He’s going to kill me,_ she realized in horror and her frantically beating heart stopped for a second before it sped up even more. She could hear her blood buzzing in her ears.  _If I don’t give him something, I’m dead._

“You are quite loyal, aren’t you? Why is that? Are you more than his ally? His girl toy, maybe? ” He leaned forward, so his face was just inches from hers. He was trying to intimidate her. Like the punches and kicks and the _freaking_ baseball bat in his hand wasn’t intimidating enough. “Or are you’re just plain stupid?“

She closed her eyes. And plead the fifth.

“TELL ME!” he roared and she flinched, new tears appearing on her cheeks.

 _I don’t know!_ she wanted to roar back, but she already told him that. He was just too dumb to actually listen to her.

 _Tell him something! Buy yourself some time! He’s gonna come eventually, right? He always comes._ _If someone cries loud enough, the Devil will hear him._ But would he? Could he even come here? He was always hiding in the shadows of the night. Was it still night? Was it night already? How long had she been here?  She had no idea. There were no windows. Where was she anyway?

He toyed with the bat in his hand, provoking her fear. She didn’t want to give him or the other kidnappers the satisfaction of her screaming. But she wanted to scream. _Badly_.

She was fucking tired. It was cold, her clothes soaking wet, her body shivering, teeth clattering, ears ringing. She almost couldn’t see through her tears and dried lenses. And it hurt. Everything. Every _fucking_ cell in her body hurt like hell. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

She whined when the bat collided with her arm. The pain was unbearable. The chair she was tied to swayed, but didn’t tip over this time. She couldn’t decide if she was glad or not.

He raised the bat again.

“Wait!” she yelped, her eyes squeezed shut, already waiting for the impact. It didn’t come.

“He d-didn’t show m-me hi-hi-his f-fa-face,” she tried to talk, but talking hurt, her jaw hurt, her teeth were still clattering and her throat was so dry she could cry. Oh wait, she _was_ crying.

The thugs shared an unimpressed look and with a sigh the bat was in the air again.

“But-” she squeaked. He stopped in mid-strike, eyebrow raised. “I kn-know his n-n-name.”

For the first time, she realized there was one more man in the room. He was quietly siting in an armchair in the corner of the shady room all along. He rose to his feet and approached her. His voice sounded too sweet and polite.

“Well. Would you like to share with us?” His smile was awfully slimy.

 _He’s damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t._ She wanted to protect him. She wanted to protect herself.

_Krucinál!_

The silent man made a disapproving sound. “And here I thought we were getting somewhere…” He was halfway back to his armchair when he beckoned to the baseball man and the bat collided with her arm again.

She couldn’t help it. She screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing in the room, her chest vibrating with the sound.

“That’s the spirit!” That _motherfucker_ laughed. The other two just shared a grin. “It talks!”

She was hyperventilating, pain taking over, her vision clouded just like her mind.

Was she trembling because of the pain? Or it was the shiver?  No, her body was probably too tired to warm itself up.

“The name,” he hissed and she wasn’t even sure if he said the words or if she just imagined it.

She sobbed.

“It’s M-M-Mike,” she barely whispered.

“What was it?” The quiet man stopped in his tracks.

“His name,” she tried to force her voice to be more than just a silent move of her trembling lips. She couldn’t make herself lift her head. “His name is _Mike_.”

And then the lights died out.

She blinked, suddenly blinded. The room was pitch black.

“What the-” one of the men cursed.

Vera heard their quick pace and rustling of fabric. A flashlight of a mobile phone illuminated the room. Two more joined soon. In the dim light, she could see confused and irritated face of _Officer Collins_. The two other men she could see wore a mask of fear.

Vera knew what that meant. She let out a laugh of relief not caring it sounded more like a sob and it sent a fresh wave of agony through her body. She didn’t feel the cold anymore. It would be over soon.

 _He_ was here.

“What are you laughing at, _bitch_?” Collins growled and crossed the distance between them, trying to intimidate her once again. But she wouldn’t be afraid anymore. No. It was their time to be scared. To suffer.

Later, she blamed her next actions on the head injury. There was no way she would do it otherwise.

She remembered her college time, the first year, and spoke up. “Scaphoideum, lunatum, triquetrum. Pisiformis, trapezium, trapezoidum. Capitatum, hamatum…” she whispered the words solemnly, watching his eyes go wide.

“What is this?” he gritted his teeth with an audible click.

She managed an approximation of a smile. “The bones in your wrist,” she continued with anything she could recall, “…Clavicula, scapula, humerus. Radius, ulna, metacarpes...” Huh, she actually didn’t forget everything yet.

The door creaked and he turned to its direction, baseball bat raised. “Shut up, _shut up_.”

She stopped naming the bones. “He’s the Devil, you know. He’s aware of all your sins. For each punch you’ve ever landed, he’s gonna break one of your bones. You have around two hundreds and sixteen bones in your body. Is that gonna be enough? Or is he gonna need to use any of them twice?”

Collins’ breathing was unnaturally fast. His face gleamed with sweat in the dim light. He was terrified. She heard the hurried steps of the men and saw their flashlights moving. She waited.

The first collision was heard from the corner.  She bet the silent man didn’t even put up a fight. He wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty, let alone know how to throw a punch.

The next bang came from the left. A phone clinked on the ground and its light exposed two fighting figures for a second before it flickered and died. Vera never saw anything more beautiful.

Flesh hitting the flesh.  A whine. Something that sounded awfully like a _bone breaking_. An agonized scream.

The frozen bodies of Collins and his companion broke into motion. Something heavy fell on a ground with a loud thud. A human body.

A whistling sound cut the air and the man was hit by a billy club in his head with deadly precision. He stumbled but didn’t fall. Another club hit him and he was out cold. The weak flashlight illumined him and the rest of the room poorly.

Collins turned his light off.

Oh, if he only knew. It wasn’t going to help him.

The room was still dark - Vera couldn’t see her saviour since he was wearing black, but she made out a shape of the man who had tortured her. He stretch out and stroke. The baseball bat only hit the air. Dark shadow quickly moved the same direction and then with a _crack of a bone_ and a cry, the bat hit the ground. Collins was slammed against the door. The Devil held his weight like it was nothing.

“Are you scared, already?” the Devil growled in his face and slammed his body against the door once more. He shrieked instead of answering. “Good.”

Collins was tossed on a ground and pinned down. Multiple blows and the wet sound of blood echoed in the room. There was another _crack_ and a whine.

Vera winced.

The Devil wasn’t trying to knock this man out – he would do it already if he wanted to. No. He wanted to _hurt_ him.

“How many punches have you thrown in your life?” a dangerous voice asked the man and he whimpered.

 _Crack_.

“TELL ME!”

“I don’t know!” he cried out miserably, voice filled with tears and pain.

Punches.

 _Cracks_.

Vera fought the wave of nausea. She wouldn’t recognize the man she admired.

“Why should I believe you?” the Devil hissed. “Did you believe her when she told you she didn’t know who I am?”

Sobs were the only answer.

“Did you stop hurting her?”

Another whine. _Cracks_ and a deafening scream.

Vera shivered as she felt his pain in her own bones. This was her fault. The Devil was hurting him because of _her_.

 _Crack_ and a tormented sound that could only mean an unbearable agony.

“STOP!” she yelled desperately.

She could hear a sharp intake of breath. She wasn’t sure from whom. There was no other sound but Collins’ quiet sobs and two people panting. No hits. No _cracks_.

Vera continued weakly. “I’m sorry for what I said. Please, _please,_ just stop.”

There was no more fighting. She thought she saw the Devil grab Collins by his collar. “You better _pray_ for her health and well-being. You wouldn’t be able to use your other hand again if it wasn’t for her. _Ángel de la misericordia_.”

Vera had no idea what he said. It was something about… a heart? _Cordia_? She hoped he wasn’t talking about stopping his heart.

The Devil let go. One punch and the last man was out.

She breathed in shakily. It was over. Rustling and a dialling tone. He stood up.

_“…what’s you emergency?”_

“Send an ambulance and a patrol on the corner of 11th and 58th . Four unconscious men, kidnappers. Their victim, a young woman, severely injured.” He made a pause as Vera took another breath in and shifted in her chair. It hurt.

She thought she heard him _growl_. “Conscious, breathing. Concussion, broken arm and wrist. Two fractured ribs and another four cracked…” How could he possibly know- Vera stopped listening. She did not want to know. It hurt and that was all that mattered. And she rather forgot that too.

Vera couldn’t tell when it had happened, but suddenly he was in front of her. One of the phones was placed next to her chair in slow motion, its light giving her an idea about her surroundings.

He didn’t want her to be afraid of not seeing him, she realized. He kneeled in front of the chair. The visible and faintly lit part of his face was tense.

“I swear to God, I am not going to hurt you.” _I know,_ she thought _._ He raised his hands up and showed her a knife in one of them. “I am going to untie you, alright?”

She gave a nod. He cut the tape on her ankles, then circled the chair and moved to her hands. She sighed in relief when the pressure on her wrists disappeared. She rolled the right one, testing its mobility - it was stiff, but she could tell it wasn’t severe. Vera didn’t move her left arm. She knew better than that.

He circled the chair again so he wasn’t on her back and she could see his every move. He was quiet, but his Adam’s apple worked from time to time. He stood by her side like a guardian angel.

She found her voice. “Thank you.” There was nothing else to say. Besides, talking still hurt.

The Devil exhaled shakily. He took a few steps back, mostly hid himself in the shadows. Vera didn’t understand. Was he leaving?  

The true weariness she had never felt before hit her like a truck. Adrenalin was leaving her body, agony washing over her. She wanted to sleep. The sleep would carry the pain away. She closed her eyes.

In any other situation, she would welcome the darkness, she really would. Except in the dark, she was alone. She couldn’t see him now and he didn’t make a sound. Vera was exhausted. Cold. _Alone_.

She snapped her eyes open. He wasn’t anywhere in her sight. But certainly he would tell her if he was leaving? 

“Come… come here. Please,” Vera pleaded, unsure whether she was talking to no one. And she _hated_ it.

Light steps on her right. Cautious. “I’m here.” He was. And there was no Devil of Hell’s Kitchen anymore. The only person Vera saw was Matt. His whole outfit black, a mask covering his beautiful eyes. Still Matt. Genuine. Caring. “What is it?”

Stupid tears rolled down her face. “I don’t want to be _alone_ ,” she whispered, voice breaking on the last word.

He made an unhappy grimace and squatted in front of her, gingerly taking her right hand in his.  “ _You’re not_ ,” he said softly and she let out a muffled sob.

_Do prdele se vším._

Vera bent over, her ribs and arm crying with the movement. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and this time, she let the darkness embrace her peacefully.

He froze, his breath hitching. Vera, on the other hand, relaxed. She was perfectly content like this. Because this was Matt and he came for her. And she hadn’t betrayed him. She had kept his secret. His identity was safe. _She_ was safe.

His body shifted slightly and suddenly there was a hand in her hair, stroking gently. She hummed at the pleasant feeling - the hand stopped and then caressed her again. She would _swear_ she felt the lightest touch of his lips on her temple too.

“You were so brave,” he whispered, voice husky, almost tormented. “And I’m _so_ sorry, I’m sorry _,_ I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ ,” he kept repeating the words like a mantra.

Hand held in his, tender stokes in her hair, low voice in her ear, she was slowly drifting away.

“ _Vera?_ ”

She blinked when hearing her name, surprised.

“Your name is Vera, right?” he asked and she realized with disappointment that his hand was no longer in her hair. She missed the touch.

If the situation was less miserable, she would laugh at his question, because he knew her name well. She hummed in agreement instead.

“The police are here in two minutes. I need to leave,” he announced and she had no energy to think about how he could know it with such accuracy. “I _need to_ leave. Is it okay if I do?”

Vera didn’t want him to go. But she was aware that he had to. She did wonder what he would do if she said no though. She didn’t test him. With a sigh she leaned back to her chair in one painful motion. She looked at him and nodded.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, let go and stood up. He took few slow steps back, disappearing into the shadows.

He was moving so quietly she couldn’t tell if he was still in the room. The creak of the door was her only hint. Then she heard the sirens.

The squat of cops arrived in no time. They rushed in with ‘ _NYPD put your hands up!’_ , flashlights and guns ready.

Vera didn’t put her hands up. It would hurt. She sat on her chair, squinting in the bright lights, waiting for someone to pay attention to her.

She eyed one particular black officer, who scanned the room full of unconscious men and then pointed his flashlight at her.

“Holy shit!” 

_I wouldn’t sum it up better, Sergeant._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is any error in Spanish, don’t hesitate to correct me. If you can tell the whole sentence, please share with me. I wished Matt to say “She’s the angel of mercy.” But I didn’t want screw up.
> 
>  
> 
> _Do prdele se vším. – Screw everything._
> 
>  
> 
> I used the latin terms for the bones, because in Czechia, we learn them in latin. I believe that English speaking students do not, at least those who attended our faculty. They use and share an excellent mnemonic device for the bones in wrist:  
> SCared Lovers TRY Positions That They CAn't HAndle - scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum, pisiform, trapezium, trapezoidum, capitate, hamate. Gotta love these guys.
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – Long and lost


	12. 9) Remember the fine night there…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So he never told you? Not even a hint?”  
> “No. And I mean… I understand. Maybe his name is awful. Bartholomew, Valentino. Or it doesn’t sound tough - something like Rio or Skipper. It would ruin his image. Or! Maybe he’s Richard. I wouldn’t want people to know that either. They would call me D all the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, dialogue heavy and totally fluffy.  
> And few Czech words - vocabulary at the end of the chapter, not necessary though.

Vera felt his presence. She was well-aware that he was right next to her, close enough for her to touch him, but her body was too heavy. Her eyelids weighted at least ten pounds; she couldn’t make herself open her eyes. It felt like ages had passed when she finally did.

She stared on a grey ceiling for a while before she found a way to turn her head. Capable hands were shifting around the sideboard of her bed in a funny way. She followed their lines, alongside the black sleeves and reached his pale jaw. He wore a mask, or so she thought. Everything was blurry and the room was rather dark.

Next to his head, there was something round and dark, what seemed to be hovering in the air. It looked like a balloon. It would explain the funny movement of his hands. He was tying it up.

The same moment Vera confirmed it was indeed a balloon, she knew it was a dream. A very absurd dream. In a complete hospital room with beeping machines.

A pleasant voice reached her ears. “Hey.” It was such a weird salutation. Was he Irish or what?

“To je vážně balónek?” she asked incredulously. Strange feeling tickled her nose as she spoke.

The voice didn’t reply. She huffed.

“Proč je tu balónek?”

He made an unidentifiable noise. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Oh. She thought about his words, trying to decrypt them. He... he couldn’t understand her. Huh. She would expect her dream guardian to know her language.

“Balloon?” she managed a question and his silhouette nodded. Good.

 _Jak jsi ho sem proboha dostal?_ she wanted to ask, but stopped herself. He wouldn’t know what she was saying. She recalled the right words. “You? Rooftops?”

He lowered himself, sat down on a chair and took her hand. He still didn’t wear gloves. His touch was warm, soothing. “Yeah.”

She chuckled. It was a strangely tiring thing to do. But she had to laugh at the idea of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen jumping on the rooftops with a balloon. It was absolutely ridiculous.

“What the-“ a female voice sounded from another end of the room, light from the door making her look an angel. The fact that Vera wouldn’t be able to recognize more than her silhouette only helped her imagination.

Vera thought the woman was wearing scrubs. It seemed like it would be blue in the daylight. A nurse then. She closed the door. “You know what? I am not even asking.”

Vera considered what the woman said. When it clicked into place, she smiled. She liked her dream nurse.

Matt stroked her hand.

“Okay. _Okay_.” The nurse took few steps to her bed. “How are you feeling? How is your pain?”

Vera frowned at her, thinking. She wasn’t in pain. Her body weighted over two thousand pounds at the moment, but no pain. Also, Matt was right next to her, protecting her. Everything was fine.

“Vera?” her favourite voice asked.

“Hm?” She turned her head back to him.

“How much is your pain? From one to ten?” He talked slowly, patiently. He was really gentle and he wanted her to answer. She would fulfil his wish. It took effort to translate his question and her response though.

“None.”

He squeezed her hand. “You sure?”

So, so many questions. She nodded. The world spun with the movement.

The cool nurse, who didn’t mind the presence of a vigilante at her bed, touched her arm – the same arm Matt was holding and Vera saw a syringe.

“I’m going to give you something that will help you sleep, okay?” she asked Vera a question again, and it was so complicated and she didn’t want to think. Her guard didn’t say anything and didn’t remove the syringe from her, so she decided it was safe enough and hummed in agreement.

She felt a funny poke in her inner elbow and a warm feeling spread in her arm. She closed her eyes.

The nurse headed to the door judging by her footsteps.

“M-“ Vera wanted to say but then stopped herself from saying something stupid. Her dream nurse was still in here. Vera wouldn’t give up his name to her nurse, no matter how kind she seemed. “Mike?” she whispered instead and then she heard the door close.

“Yes?” He squeezed her hand again. It felt like an odd pressure now. She wouldn’t tell him that though.

“Můžeš… můžeš mi něco vyprávět? Mám strašně ráda tvůj hlas,” she admitted and he let out an unhappy sound. _Frustrated_.

Right. English. Her tongue was somehow tangled up. “Talk? Like… your voice.”

“Of course.” He was pleased now, she could tell. She tried a smile, but her lips weren’t her own anymore. She couldn’t control them. “What would you like to hear about?” 

 _So many questions_.

“ ‘dno. ’n care.” Vera suspected he stroked her knuckles.  She wasn’t sure. And she didn’t care, because he started talking and his soothing voice sounded like music and led her to another dream.

\---

 _My head hurts_ , was her first thought. She felt like she had gotten hit by a hammer. Not that she ever had been hit by a hammer to her head before, but she imagined it would feel like this. Before opening her eyes, she took a deep breath. And _oh_. She was wrong. Her _side_ hurt, not her head. Perhaps both? Her arm wasn’t exactly peachy either.

Vera opened her eyes and quickly closed them again as the bright light attacked her. She squinted and looked around the room she didn’t recognize. It was blurry. Everything always was without her glasses or contacts.

There was a periodic beeping on the left side of her head. She turned to its direction and saw a monitor. There were several cables leading from it and as she followed their track, she found out they were actually attached to her body. _Huh_. She had a cannula in her nose and there was an infusion input in her inner elbow. Her other arm hurt – she had a cast on it. Two separated casts, so she could move her elbow. Lucky her.

Vera was in a hospital and apparently needed a heart monitor. When she looked on the other side of her bed, thing that suspiciously resembled a balloon hovered in the air. The unclear memory of her dream popped in her head (Why was she still seeing the balloon? Were the drugs she was getting that good?), together with many unpleasant memories of fists, kicks and bats colliding with her body.

She had been kidnapped. She had gotten beat up. She had been tortured for information. She had been _saved_.

Someone knocked on her door. She realized she was the only person in her room – she had to answer.

“Come in,” she creaked and a silhouette in blue with long dark hair entered and approached her. Vera could see her features better as she went closer. She cleared her throat.

“Good morning. I’m Claire, your nurse,” she hesitated, “would you like me to give you your glasses? Your aunt brought them in last night… morning.”

Vera thought Claire’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. She probably went to MDDC for coffee. Lots of people did. Vera slowly processed the information she was given. Her _aunt_?

 _Who cares. Yes, I want my glasses._ “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.”

Clare opened the nightstand next to her bed and carefully placed her glasses on her face. And _hello, vision_. Vera readjusted them with her right hand. She felt an unpleasant pull in her cubit; the infusion input, right.

She looked at her nurse. Claire had wavy black hair, sun-tainted skin and kind dark eyes. She smiled at Vera.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked.

Vera fought the urge to frown. What kind of question was that? It seemed tricky. “Uhm. Hospital?” she said, unsure what Claire expected her to say.

“Yeah. That would be right. You’re in Metro General. Do you know the city?”

“New York City? Maybe?” Vera didn’t know where the men took her, but she _had been_ saved by the Devil, so she assumed she was still in Hell’s Kitchen.

“Of course. You’re in Hell’s Kitchen, New York City. Can you tell me you name?” She was testing the state of consciousness, Vera realized.

“Vera. I mean. Veronika Macháčková.” That would be enough questions, right? It was her turn now. “Uhm, you said something about my aunt?”

“Yes. Yes. Nina Larkin. We called her when they brought you in since she’s your emergency contact.” _Oh_. Was she?  “She brought you stuff. Phone, wallet, glasses, tooth brush. She left about two hours ago. Said she needed to go to work. Wasn’t happy about it though.”

Vera was touched. And seriously, give that woman a medal.  “She was here? After they brought me- when did they? What day is it?” she was baffled.

Claire circled her bed and took a seat. “Sorry. Should have told you. It’s Wednesday, about eight a.m.. You were admitted yesterday around midnight. Several injuries, unconscious. Went straight to surgery,” she explained her and Vera gasped.

It was _Wednesday_. They jumped her on Monday! _Let’s… not think about what happened_.

“She’s not my aunt. But she’s a saint. She’s my aunt’s friend. No, sorry. My friend’s aunt friend. Huh. I pay her my rent,” she tangled in her own words.

Claire watched her, unimpressed by her babbling. “Well, _she_ was here. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

 _Yes. A lot_. “Kinda, yeah. And my throat is sore.”

Claire gave her a serious face and leaned over her bed. There was a plastic cup with a straw. Vera hadn’t notice it earlier. She gratefully accepted Claire’s help and drank the water in one go.

“Careful,” she warned her uselessly and too late. It wasn’t an easy task to drink while lying on a bed. At least its upper half was slightly elevated, so she wasn’t in horizontal position completely.

Claire also showed her a button for calling nurses and remote for the bed. She asked her about the amount of pain and promised her to bring something for it. Vera felt the strangest déjà-vu as the nurse left her room.

She returned in minutes, syringe in her hand. It was awfully familiar scenery and Vera started to sense something fishy. Vera eyed the balloon which was _still there_. It was simple, round, dark blue, _get well soon_. She liked it.

She had to ask. “Uhm. Can I— did Nina… Mrs. Larkin bring the balloon?”

That was it. The nurse would find out Vera was hallucinating.

But Claire _looked at it too_ and her lips twitched in amusement. “No. Not exactly.” She chuckled.

Oh my god. _Oh my god_.

“Oh my god.” It wasn’t a dream. Matt had gone to see her in his vigilante outfit, brought her a freaking balloon and _oh_ , the things she had said. _Ježišmarja._ Also the nurse saw him.

Vera was brought back to reality by a touch on her hand. She blinked and looked at her nurse. She realized the heart monitor was freaking out. Well, _she was_.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

Vera wanted to hide her face in her palm but she remembered her infusion. _Dammit_. “It wasn’t a dream,” she whispered, meaning it as well as a question as a statement.

“Nope. It was _not_. He was right here, sitting in that chair when I came in,” Claire reassured her and Vera examined her expression. It wasn’t anger or fear. More like disbelief.

_Hold on a second._

Claire was a nurse. Claire had found a strange man, known as a vigilante, in the middle of the night in Vera’s hospital room and hadn’t freak out. ‘ _You know what? I am not even asking_ ,’ was all she had said. Matt could have probably told Claire had been coming, yet, he hadn’t left and hadn’t uncomfortable in her presence. Almost as if they-

“You know him!” Vera accused her nurse, disbelief on her own face.

Claire smiled mysteriously and emptied the syringe in the infusion bag. “Maybe,” she confessed.

“I can’t believe it. _What is my life now?”_ Vera muttered under her breath and a terrible though appeared in her mind. She was a _nurse_. He wouldn’t go to a hospital, when injured, but he certainly needed help from time to time. If he had a nurse friend… “You’re helping him. You treat him when— _oh my god,_ did you treat his bullet wound?”

Vera’s head was spinning – everything was crazy and making sense perfectly at the same time. But the spins could have been caused by the drugs, after all.

“Okay, you are _awfully_ bright considering the amount of pain-meds and sedatives in your system,” Claire declared as she put off her gloves. Vera stared at her, raising an eyebrow, waiting for another bombshell to drop. Oh, she wasn’t disappointed.  “Let’s say Mike has an amazing ability to get into trouble. And dumpsters. And make my life difficult,” Claire admitted.

 _Mike? Dumpsters? Making her life difficult?_ Vera opened her mouth and no sound came out. She had many, _many_ questions. She started with the most puzzling one.

“Mike?” She was pretty sure Claire couldn’t hear her when she said his name last night – when she had _not_ been dreaming. Yet, she called him Mike.

Claire laughed and threw the syringe and her gloves in a bin with yellow and black label. “Oh, yeah. I named him after my ex the very first time I found him in my dumpster.” Her eyes were soft, melancholic. She cared for him. _A lot_. Did he feel the same? Were they dating? Did she know who he was without his mask?

_Nope. Do not go there._

She went there. “You know who he is?” Vera asked timidly, watching Claire’s reaction.

The nurse stopped laughing, suddenly serious. “Maybe.” She paused. _She knew_. “But I can’t tell you. I know that… I know you probably think you deserve it, since they kinda took you because of him and I agree. Yet, it’s not my secret to tell. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Vera escaped her intense gaze, inspecting the balloon again. “You don’t have to.”

Claire’s gasp nearly covered the knock on the door. The person didn’t wait for an invitation and entered. _Rude_. But hey, she would forgive Sergeant Mahoney for that.

“Uhm. Hello, Miss Temple. Miss Machackova.” He nodded as a greeting at both of them separately and spoke to Claire _Temple_ , “May I have a few words with your patient?”

Claire was still astounded by Vera’s revelation. “Sure. Sure, yeah, but I just gave her some pain-meds, so…”

“Oh. Well, I’ll try anyway if that’s okay,” he offered innocently and Vera wondered who would tell _no_ to him. The power of persuasion was obviously one of his many abilities. Handy for a cop.

Claire shot Vera what could be a warning look – _tell him and I’ll mix-up some of your medication, by accident naturally_ – and left. And _ok lady, I like you, but I was tortured and I didn’t give it away_ , _thank you very much_.

“May I take a seat?” he asked with politeness of his own.

Vera nodded.

“Remember me?” he wanted to make sure.

“Of course, Sergeant Mahoney.” It was kinda hard to forget. He was there with Collins, both times. And he was here again. Did he ever take a day off? “What would you like to know?”

He sighed. “Everything.” He looked almost guilty.

Vera sighed too and started from the beginning as he pressed the record button.  

She told him about her apartment, waking up in the room with no windows. Four men of whom two she had identified as her attackers in her flat and one as Officer Collins. (His expression visibly hardened at the mention of him.) She wouldn’t give him much detail about her… _torture_ , but he wanted to know, if there was someone who had been particularly engaged in hurting her. He was not happy about the answer. Vera felt sorry for him. She shortly narrated the appearance of the Devil and arrival of the cops. She realized she didn’t know at which point she had blacked out. She couldn’t recall the presence of the paramedics.

He turned off the recorder. “We interrogated two of the men so far.”

Vera took a wild guess that Collins wasn’t one of them, because he wasn’t in condition to talk, and felt a slight sting of guilt. It disappeared quickly.

She didn’t understand why she was being told this.

“They told us you gave them a name.”

 _Oh_. “Yes.”

“When I asked you, off the record, if you know who he is, you said you didn’t. That changed?”

 _Yeah_. _No way I’m telling you_.

She _did not_ want to lie to an officer of the law though. Let alone this one. So. No lies. “The Devil never told me his name.” _There. No lie_.

“You told them his name was Mike.”

“Of course I did! I tried to make myself a useful source after a while. So they… so they didn’t kill me. They threatened me to kill me. I decided to make it up. And John, you know, like John Doe, seemed too obvious.” And she told them the first letter. And _Max_ was too close.

“So he never told you? Not even a hint?”

“No. And I mean… I understand. Maybe his name is awful. Bartholomew, Valentino. Or it doesn’t sound tough - something like Rio or Skipper. It would ruin his image. Or! Maybe he’s Richard. I wouldn’t want people to know that either. They would call me Dick all the time.”

Vera was fairly certain she was high on the meds. She did not just tell him that.

The respectable officer looked like he was about to crack. He pressed his lips together and Vera wasn’t sure whether he was fighting laughter or a frustrated scream. His face was hilarious though.

He took a few deep breaths through his nose and stood up. “Alright. I think we’re done here.” He shoved the recorder in his pocket. Vera was glad he had turned it off before she had started talking about dicks.

“Glad to hear that,” she admitted. She was feeling tired. Her mind was indeed slightly clouded. Huh. Pain-meds. Magic.

“I bet. Just for you to know, you don’t have to worry about your safety. There is a patrol right in front the door to your room.”

 _Whoa_. That was new.  “Since when?” she asked incredulously.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” the cop said, apparently offended, “your safety is the top priority here. We arrested the men, but we want to make sure no one tries to get to you. We are guarding you ever since you were admitted.”

And wasn’t that reassuring. Matt, while carrying a _freaking_ balloon, had managed to sneak up right in front of their noses. She felt safer already.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Vera gave him her best thanks with a polite smile, holding the laugh in her throat.

Pleased, he nodded at her and said his goodbyes. She waited a full minute before she cracked and burst out laughing.

And _ouch_ , very, very bad idea. Her _ribs_. Served her right. She shouldn’t have been laughing at the nice officer.

She rather tried to sleep.

\---

Vera slept until she was rudely woken up by a doctor who came to check her over. When he was reading the list of her injuries, she shivered. It sounded awful (every time any part of her body was mentioned, she felt a jolt of pain there despite the drugs). On top of that, he said she had _a_ _concussion, broken arm and wrist, two fractured ribs and another four cracked_ among other things and Vera was horrified, because she remembered, crystal clear, that somehow Matt knew all of this without diagnostic tools _and_ vision and it was spooky as hell.

Seeing her expression, the doctor reassured her that she should be making a full recovery, which _yay_ , but _this wasn’t what freaked me out, sorry_. Still, she was relieved that there would be no permanent damage.

When he left, she fished out her phone from the nightstand and really, everything was a pain, because her left arm was practically immobile and her right one was impaled and she didn’t want to call a nurse in case she would manage to pull the input out.

She found apologetic texts from Nina for leaving (trust her she would apologize for that) and not being able to make it to the hospital today because of work. It made Vera a little sad, but she also found messages from Terri announcing she would definitely arrive right after her morning shift, so she had something to look forward.

It was a blatant lie. Terri burst into her room shortly after lunch (well, _lunch,_ hello jello, only eatable substance), which was around half past one and there was no way she could finish her shift at the very same time she arrived.

The first thing Vera saw though was a balloon. And before she could identify the newcomer by her looks, she heard her voice.

“Veronica Fucking-trouble-magnet Machackova!” she roared as she entered the room and Vera subconsciously sat up straighter in her bed. She had been sitting since lunch; the bed remote was a small miracle.

“Hello to you too,” she greeted her savage friend (oh, she loved her), “also, that’s not my middle name.”

Terri shot her a murderous look and huffed. “It is from now. Suits you better than Ariana.” She made her way to Vera’s bed, balloon wildly swaying above her head. “And who the hell gave you a balloon already?” She made a disappointed face.

What was a small lie between friends? “No idea.” The beeping of the heart monitor made a funny jump. “And no, Ariana is not my middle name either.”

Her friend observed the blue object tied to Vera’s bed with pure hatred. She collapsed on the chair. “I know. I checked your contract in MDDC to find a blackmail material.”

Terri ignored her gasp of disbelief. She rather examined her with concerned look.

“Hey. I’m okay.” Vera smiled convincingly, “Well. The doctor said I’ll make a full recovery. That’s great right? I’ll be fine.”

Terri relaxed a little. “Oh, honey. You’re already fine. You’re _so_ _fine_ a blind man would see it. I’m bearing gifts.” She held out a paper bag. It had an MDDC logo on it. “Of muffins and teas.”

“I love you,” Vera breathed out, reaching for it.

Terri winked. “I know. I love you too.” She helped her to pull out the items. Then she sighed. “You scared me to death. You know that, right?”

Vera carefully shrugged. It wasn’t like it was her fault. “Sorry,” she said anyway.

Terri grimaced.

“I was expecting to see you on Tuesday. But you didn’t come. I would think you were sick or something, but didn’t even answer my calls or Mrs. Walker’s for that matter. I was hoping you overslept, tried not to jump to conclusion you managed to mingle with another robbery. Nearly laughed the thought off. Mrs. Walker actually couldn’t reach anyone, so she had to be at the counter. Hilarious. Except after my shift, I headed to your place – we looked up the address in your contract – and you wouldn’t answer your door.” Terri paled at the unpleasant memories and continued. “I was getting really worried. I remembered you mentioned Mrs. Larkin. We went to her apartment and she, bless her, didn’t hesitate to use her spare key. You weren’t there, Vera. And your coat _was_ , your purse, your backpack with your _fucking_ phone and wallet. And there was,” she gulped and looked away.

“What?” Vera asked her cautiously, afraid of what got her friend so out of her mind.

“On the wall, Vera. There was a _fucking_ smudge of blood on the wall. We called the police. No one had a single idea where you could be or why would anyone want to hurt you. I told them about the robbery. Nina, who was by the way pissed as hell when she found out about your adventure in the bank you hadn’t share, couldn’t tell us a thing. We talked to Michelle and Olivia. We considered calling your friend’s aunt to contact your family in case you told them anything. We directed the police to Fogwell’s. And,” she paused and actually made a guilty face, “don’t get mad. We were out of options. I told them to talk to Murdock as well.”

 _Huh_. _Guess that’s how he found out_. Vera hadn’t thought about it before, whether he knew about her disappearance or he just heard her scream. She was very, very grateful to Terri, because she probably played a huge role in her early save. Too bad she couldn’t tell her that.

Vera blinked and tried to give her friend a smile. “It’s alright. I get it. I can imagine he wasn’t much of a help though.” _Except he was all the help I got._ She decently sipped her tea.

“Yeah. But he was kinda worried sick.”

Vera shot her a surprised look. “You talked to him?”

“Oh, yeah. I wanted to go with the police and I was very persistent. I could have gone to Fogwell’s, but I had a hunch.” _Of course she had_. Terri snapped her fingers. “It turned out that he actually _was_ the last one who saw you. Well, was with you anyway. Are you two dating or something?”

Vera was drinking at the moment. She almost drowned herself as she used the wrong pipe – she started coughing, tears appearing in her eyes. It hurt _like a bitch_. Terri was agile enough to take her tea before she could burn herself and hit her back – it hurt even more, but at least Vera could breathe again. Terri’s balloon was now at the ceiling.

Vera couldn’t believe what she was asked. “No. We are not dating, Theresa. How did you- you know what, never mind. We’re _not_.”

The redness in her face was caused by cough and the cough only. Nothing else. And she absolutely did not think about Matt’s ‘ _maybe they just need lights to guide them home’_. Or his hand and possibly his _lips_ in her hair. And his night visit. Nope.

She needed to calm down. And she needed to change the subject.

“So.” Vera cleared her throat. “Any funny stories about Mrs. Walker behind the counter?”

Terri smiled. “Yep. Except one more thing.”

Vera eyed her friend suspiciously. She was honestly afraid of what was about to come. Yet it couldn’t surprise her more than ‘ _are you two dating_ _or something’_. Yeah. _Or something_.

Then it clicked. Vera snorted. “No Terri. It was like really dark in here. And I was kinda out of it. I did not look at his butt.”

Terri glared at her, mouth hanging open. “I didn’t know he was involved! He saved you again? Jeez, girl. Is he stalking you? I guess he does, but you know what? Right now I’m grateful… Also, excellent point, my dear _Mechy_. But.” Her face was unnaturally serious. “Every single evening or night, starting the day you’re discharged, you text me when you get home. No scratch that, you _call me_. Do you understand? I do not want to go through this again.”

Vera was shocked. And touched. “Terri-”

“Do you understand?”

Vera bit her lip. “You know they jumped me _in_ the apartment, right?”

If Terri could kill with her glare, Vera would be dead. “Yeah, I know. I saw _your blood_ on the wall, _thank you very much_.”

Vera blinked away her tears and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I promise I will call you. What if-“

“No _what if_. If I am anywhere, even if I have a date with the _freaking_ president. Which, gross.”

Vera’s lips twitched. “Kay.”

“Good.” Terri gave her back her tea and her muffin. “Now eat. And listen. Because you never heard anything like this. Oh, also Mrs. Walker says hi, lets you know you’re a crappy employee and you’re not allowed to go back until you recover completely. So, the story no.1….”

\---

Terri stayed for another two hours. She was talking about everything that came to her mind - about cute guy who came to MDDC that day (yes, she got his number), about Barbara, the new employee (Olivia no.2) and also about taking Vera shopping (What the actual hell, Machackova? NY malls! NY malls!). She was also so kind that she combed Vera’s hair because they were a mess and helped her to get to the bathroom. (Vera saw her own face for the first time after the incident – she decided that blue and purple were not her colours, not when she wore them on her face.) Vera had no idea how to repay Terri; she said that getting well soon would be enough so they could attack the malls. Vera didn’t argue.

Vera’s cheeks were burning from the constant smiling; laugh was pretty much out of picture since ouch, ribs. She gave Terri a wave as she was leaving and relaxed into the backrest with her eyes closed.

Loud burst of laughter caught her off guard. It was Terri. She could hear her _roaring_ with laughter from the hall.

Her head appeared in Vera’s door again, wide grin on her face. “Remember my words, darling. Remember what I told you about being-” she paused, ”you know. _Okay._ ”  And then she was gone.

Vera had _no idea_ what was so funny and what was going on.

There was a knock on her door. “Come in!” she called out cautiously. _Here comes the punchline_.

A person came in with tapping. Oh. Of course. ‘ _You’re so fine a blind man would see it.’ Hilarious, Terri._

“Matt! Hey!” she greeted him, not even bothering to cover her delight.

He turned his head in her direction as if he didn’t know where exactly she was already and smiled. “ _Hey_.”

The second déjà-vu hit her that day. His voice wasn’t so rough though. She liked it the same. He carefully crossed the room, cane in one hand and— and flowers in the other. She did _not_ see that coming. The beeping of her heart monitor jumped again. _Well,_ _this is embarrassing_.

“Uhm. The chair is on the distant side of the bed if you wanna like to sit? It’s about two more steps to my bed the direction you’re walking, then two steps square left, three square right and another four square right.” She felt like an idiot. She had never given directions to blind person. And he probably knew the layout at least approximately so he could actually know if she was a crappy navigator, and she shouldn’t know that and _damn, it was a mess_. “Sorry. I’m not good at this.”

His smile widened. “You’re doing great, thanks.”

Matt closely followed her directions, counting his steps carefully, taking sharps turns - it looked ridiculous. He felt the chair and sat, cane leaning against the bedframe, flowers in his lap. He beckoned to them.

“I… uhm… I wanted to bring you something, but I can’t exactly see what flowers I’m buying. They smelled nice so I really hope the florist wasn’t lying and they are at least presentable.” He seemed a little uneasy. No smiling anymore.

Vera sighed. “They are beautiful, Matt.” They _were_. Orange lilies. “Thank you. I love lilies.”

He tilted his head as if he was waiting for something – it was just a few seconds and then the corners of his lips turned up. And suddenly Vera identified what he was listening to, _all the time_. It was her _heart_. There was no funny leap in the beeping of the machine like when she had _lied_ to Terri about the balloon from Matt. Her heart jumped _every time she said a lie_. And wasn’t that _fantastic_.

Of course, now her heart raced for a different reason. Matt could somehow hear people’s heartbeats and every time he had done something that had made her pulse pick up, he had heard it. She had no words.

Matt was frowning now.

“Sorry. Sorry, just realized something. Thank you.” She scanned the room for a vase and couldn’t find any. She would have to ask for it. “There is no vase. May I?” She asked and gestured towards the flowers and _dammit_ , she shouldn’t know he would sense it. _Ups_. “The lilies?”

“Oh. Sure.” He held them out and Vera took them. _Freaking infusion input!_ She smelled them and they _did_ smell nice indeed. And nope, there was not an idiotic grin on her face.

They fell in silence. Something was hanging in the air and Vera wasn’t sure what was it and how to grasp it. It made her felt uneasy. She hesitantly looked up at Matt and was welcomed by his glasses instead of his eyes.  It didn’t grow on her. She still hated the dark red evil instrument.

“Matt?” she had no idea how to ask him to put them off. She licked her lips, trying to figure it out.

“Hm?”

She smiled for herself when she found the right words. “I am like… super-honoured that Mr. Murdock paid me a visit, but… would you mind taking your glasses off? So Matt would come instead?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Super-honoured, huh?” He reached for his glasses though. Bright brown eyes observed her chin from that moment. _There_. Much better.

“Thanks. I can put mine off too if it makes you feel better. I mean, your face would be kind of blurry,” _and that would be a shame, shame_ , _shame_ “but…”   

“You’re wearing glasses?” he asked and seemed genuinely astounded.

Huh. Guess he couldn’t sense everything after all. Good to know.

“Yeah. Since childhood. Runs in the family,” she grimaced, “always the weird kid who needed glasses since she was like, three years old.” And it was stupid telling something like this to _him_ , since he was _blind_. “And I mostly wear contacts, now. But I don’t need to tell you that. Sorry. Sure you have your own traumatic experiences. Worse ones. Uhm…”

Dumb, dumb, _dumb_.

He gave her a crook smile. “Yeah. Kinda. Still, you are full of surprises.”

 _“You have no idea,”_ she muttered under her breath, then she realized he could hear her. That wasn’t awkward at all. “Terri, my friend, she changed my middle name.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently now I am Veronica Fucking-trouble-magnet Machackova.”

He didn’t laugh. If anything, his eyes hardened. _Yet another not so smart move_. “The vigilante is a trouble magnet, you are a vigilante magnet, apparently.”

 _Unfair_. It wasn’t like it was his fault they had come to some ridiculous conclusions. Including the one that she was possibly his _girl toy. Ew_. Not that she would mind if… it was just the words - _girl toy_. Besides, he couldn’t know that the kidnapping was about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. As in _Matt_ couldn’t know, obviously.

“Nah. I’m pretty sure the troubles came first and he just keeps saving my sorry ass,” she offered, keeping her tone light. He sighed, but didn’t say anything. He was lost in thoughts. Brooding. “How do you even know it was about him?” she asked, curious about his excuse.

He squirmed, obviously uncomfortable. “I might have asked Brett to keep me updated.”

That caught her absolutely off guard. Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? I mean… Brett, as in Sergeant Mahoney?” Were they friends? Was _sgt. Mahoney_ friends with the vigilante without knowing so? Because _that_ would be _hilarious_.

Matt shrugged. “He’s friends with Foggy, my law partner. When the officers walked in with your friend, who is very intimidating by the way, they gave us a small heart attack. They asked about you. Told us you were missing. So later I asked Brett if he would let us know.”

“Huh.” He was probably telling the truth. Interesting. “Wait, what do you mean my friend is intimidating?”

He relaxed and laughed. “I think the cops were afraid of her too. They were totally under her thumb. Also, she’s very protective of you.” Content smile played on his lips.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it. I’m lucky to have her.”

“I am sure it goes both ways.” There was his burning gaze again. Vera’s heart would jumped out of her chest if could.

_Change the subject, change the subject!_

“Wanna know my middle name?” she asked him again and he raised an eyebrow.

“Sure.”

“Ariana. Or at least it would be, according to Terri, if I actually had one, you know.”

He considered her words. “It suits you.”

“Thanks. I kinda like it,” she admitted and hesitated. “You have one?” She didn’t want to query. But she was curious about it. About him.

“I do.” He bit his lip, hesitating, like he was ashamed of it. If his middle name was Richard, Skipper or Bartholomew, Vera would slap herself.

“Hey, you don’t… you don’t have to tell me.” It was Richard. She was sure of it now.

“It’s Michael. My whole name is Matthew _Michael_.”

And it was Vera’s turn to bit her lip, before she could blurt out something unwise.

 _No way_. Michael. _Freaking_ Michael. _Mike_. She actually named him after his middle name (and Claire too). What were the odds? Vera could see now why he didn’t want to tell her. She had no idea how to react without giving herself away.

“I like it.” That wasn’t a lie, at least. “Isn’t that a name of an archangel? _The man who is like god_?” Babbling. Babbling is her secret weapon. Aside from her pepper spray.

And she had to stop watching TV shows.

 _Matthew Michael_ seemed absolutely baffled. He opened his mouth and closed it again, no sound coming out. She would swear there was a little blush on his cheeks. He was an equivalent of cuteness. She could kiss him right now. Except she _couldn’t._

“Never mind. I just like it.”

He mumbled something, but she couldn’t understand it.

 _“Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.”_ Mechanical voice cut the air and Vera jumped. Matt did as well.

“Sorry.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out a phone. Vera never thought about blind people using their phones. It made sense it would tell them who the caller was instead of a ringtone. She wondered if the same voice read their texts.

 “ _Foggy. Fog-“_

“Yes? Sorry, Foggy, I can’t really talk right now.”

Vera turned away in attempt to leave him at least some privacy, which was a completely useless gesture.

There was silence and then “No, it’s _not_ ab— _shut up._ I’ll call you back,” and the call was over.

Vera didn’t know what _was_ that about, but Matt Murdock delivering _shut up_ line to his friend was now one of her favourite things. In addition, the hint of blushing on Matt’s cheeks got more intense.

“I’m sorry. I gotta go,” he said, face not very happy.

“It’s alright. I’m glad you came. Thank you. And thank you for the flowers too.”

He gave her a quick smile, put his glasses on (and she did not sigh at the lost) and stood up. He made his way to the door, cane tapping again. He was reaching for the doorknob when he stopped as if he remembered something.

He turned around to ask her a question. “What was the thing your friend said? About _being okay_?”

Vera hated that the beeping gave away her distress. “Oh, nothing. Just an inside joke, really. A girl thing. No offence,” she was lying through her teeth and the monitor sounds were so irregular she wanted to punch it.

He hummed, questioning her answer. “If you say so.” And he walked out of the door.

Vera thought she saw his amused smile right before he disappeared. And if he somehow heard _that_ _part_ of their conversation, she was going to actually _murder_ Terri this time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too many Czech words. Sorry. I loved the idea of the language barrier.  
> “To je vážně balónek?” – “Is that a balloon?”  
> “Proč je tu balónek?” – “Why is there a balloon?  
>  _Jak jsi ho sem proboha dostal? – How the hell did you get it in here?_  
>  “Můžeš… můžeš mi něco vyprávět? Mám strašně ráda tvůj hlas.” – “Could… could you just talk - about anything? I really like you voice.”
> 
> Title from Rhodes - Wishes


	13. 10) …didn’t I show I cared?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”I think you should pick up.”  
> “I should _not_.”  
>  “It might get the caller upset.”  
> “Well, now _I am_ upset.”

Nina showed up the next day. She brought Vera’s laptop, some cosmetics, pyjamas and other necessities and books. _Laptop._ _Books_. That woman was an angel – it was only Vera’s second day in Metro General and she was already _bored_. And she knew Terri wouldn’t come that day, because she had a date with _the cute boy_ and he worked in a night club, so their date had to be set in the afternoon.

Vera and Nina had an uncomfortable conversation about the bank robbery and the kidnapping. In the end, the very first secret – accident at work/almost mugging – was revealed as well. Nina wasn’t angry. She was disappointed and hurt that Vera didn’t tell her. Vera felt guilty for lying to her. Yet, she didn’t tell her that her kidnappers took her because they suspected she was close to the Devil. She simply said it was related to the bank robbery. It wasn’t exactly a lie, was it?

Shortly after she left, Claire Temple, _The Nurse,_ turned up. She discreetly closed the door.

“So. I have a few questions,” she started and walked to her bed.

“I might not answer them.”

“You should. You know-“

“Shh,” Vera shushed her, realizing _someone_ with really good hearing could be a passive participant of their conversation. Or maybe not. How the hell should she know? Anyway, Vera didn’t want him to know. She had a hunch he would _not_ like that.

“Laptop,” she hissed and gave Claire a look.

Claire didn’t understand, but handed it to her with a sigh. Vera opened a word document and started typing – it was very slow with her hands not-moving.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

**Shut up. Yeah. I know that justice is blind, okay?**

Claire sighed again. She wrote a reply.

**_Fine. And we are talking via keyboard because…_ **

**Because he might hear us. I mean, he can, right? I don’t want him to know I know.**

Claire gave her thoughtful look and her eyes went wide.

**_HE didn’t tell you._ **

**Nope. Figured it out.**

“How?” she breathed out, astonished. Vera threw her hands in the air… kinda.

**_Sorry.  How? Why didn’t you tell him?_ **

**It was the little things. Similarities. Kept running into him… and him.**

Claire waited and pointed out her other question.

**He didn’t tell me, so he doesn’t want me to know. He wouldn’t be happy finding out I do. I think.**

**_Good point._ **

Vera smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile.

**Anything else you wanted to ask? I would ask you how he does what he does, but feels wrong.**

**_How long?_ **

**Not long. Since Monday.**

Sharp intake of breath. “Shit, shit! Did you-”

“No. Of course not!” Vera protested immediately. She knew what Claire was asking.

**I didn’t tell them. Told them his name was Mike. First thing that popped in my head starting with M.**

**_I like the way you think._ **

Vera grinned and Claire smiled too.

“So, how are you? I am a nurse, you know,” she surveyed and Vera deleted the conversation and turned off her laptop.

“Same old. No pain at the moment, but they did give me something earlier. And I hate sitting and lying all the time.”

She nodded and checked her papers hanging on the front of the bedframe. She whistled. “Good stuff. The same I gave you.”

Vera chuckled. “You mean that stuff that made me to tell Sergeant Mahoney that Devil’s name is probably Dick, since he doesn’t want anyone to know?”

Claire looked at her with eyes wider than before. “Did what?” She burst out laughing. “Oh my god, oh my- I like you, I mean it.”

Her laugh reminded Vera the intimacy she suspected between Claire and Matt. She fought the urge to ask her about it – it was none of her business. Even if they didn’t date, he dated someone else. He wasn’t the type of a man who wasn’t desired. That was for sure. And even if he _was_ single, she wouldn’t make a move. She wouldn’t know _how_. And she didn’t want to lose him by doing things awkward when being rejected.

A hand waving in front of her face. Vera blinked. “Sorry. What?”

“Wow. They should give you something less… _less_.”

“Zoned out for a minute. Happens even to the best of us,” she grinned.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Sure. Heading out. Need anything?”

Vera shook her head and Claire was about to leave. “Claire? Just for you to know… you are my hero. For what you do. For Mike.”

“Yeah. I know. But so is he.” She winked and she was gone.

Matt didn’t show up that day either. Vera was getting more and more grateful for the books and laptop. She checked the update on Marky’s wedding and found none. Shame.

She skyped her mum with no video, because, _her face_. It was an awfully dumb move, because a nurse came in and her mum figured out she was in a hospital. She was _furious_. And the only thing Vera could come up with was a drunk driver. And yes, he was in the hospital too and then we would be heading to jail. Her mum was worried sick, crying. Vera didn’t blame her, but reassured her million times that she would be okay, that her friends were visiting and the staff was nice enough. They were talking for more than an hour.

Vera kept waking up during whole night despite the sleeping drugs. It wasn’t her pain what kept her alert – it was a feeling of being watched. Yet, no man in black mask or any gunman showed up in her room. It saddened her (the first part, obviously). She fell asleep lying on her side, facing the lilies.

\---

On Friday, Terri came with fresh story about her date. And she was _delighted_. She wouldn’t shut up, because Victor was funny, laughed at her jokes, he was vivid and told her all the stories from hitch-hiking he used to enjoy before he found a job in the club. And he was incredibly _yummy_ – Terri’s words. Vera was smiling sympathetically at her friend, nodding and was taken aback by Terri’s excitement. She stayed with her the whole visiting hours, pure shock on her face when a nurse came to drag her away. That day Vera dreamed about long roads with no end in sight.

\---

On Saturday, they took out her nose cannula, detached the cables of the heart monitor (YAY!) and moved her from the ER. Which sucked, because she already met Claire and other nurses – she actually liked them – and now she had to meet new people again. The worst part was that they pierced her balloons while moving her bed. She wanted to cry. She protected her lilies with her whole body.

Also, she wasn’t alone in the room anymore. Which was a pain, because her roommate was lady in her fifties, complaining about every single sound (including Vera breathing) and the smell of the flowers. Vera snapped at her so sharply, that the woman actually shut up. For like ten minutes.

On the other hand, they allowed her to move around more than before, so she was able to escape her lovely roomie, even though she did have to drag around the infusion stand and she was very, very slow. They reduced the dose of her pain-meds and sedatives. When she asked them when she could go home, they looked at her like she was crazy and she suspected a nurse forgetting to give her one dose of her drugs was _not a pure coincidence_. And she got the message, okay? Yes, it still hurt like a bitch.

She had no visitors that day.

\---

Sunday, on the other hand… Matt showed up. And he brought a new bouquet of lilies, pink ones this time. And he managed to muscle out the nasty woman, because he _needed a quiet space to be sure he would understand Vera – since he was blind, you see, he needed at least one input to be clear, which would be impossible in the busy hallway_ and Vera absolutely loved him, because the woman stare at him with eyes wide and when Vera said ‘ _take a seat, Mr. Murdock’_ while the woman was leaving reluctantly, her head snapped back at him and she gasped with a sudden realization and she flight out of the door in an incredible speed.

“Matt?”

“Hm?” He smiled absently as Vera led him to his seat.

“You’re my hero.”

Matt talked about his experiences with Foggy from college and about their decision to have their own practise and helping people. He talked about people paying them in bananas and pies. His eyes shone brighter than before despite the bags under them and Vera couldn’t stop staring at him. He smiled a lot. Her heart was hammering in her chest violently the whole time.

Later, after he left, she looked up the Devil’s sightings and found _tens_ of individuals expressing their gratitude in last few days. She was reading about it in awe. He had been busy. Yet, Vera couldn’t recall seeing any bruise on his face or limping or crouching. And she observed him. Thoroughly. There was no sign of an injury apart from split lip (which was the reason she kept watching it, obviously). She hadn’t asked him about it.

Mrs. Seals aka nasty woman stared at her for the rest of the day suspiciously. She probably wondered what kind of a crime Vera had committed that she was in a need of a lawyer. She must have decided manslaughter, because she didn’t dare to complain about a single thing even since.

Vera owned Matt big time for more than just exorcizing the devil from her roommate. She simply wanted to do something nice for him and since he had mentioned Foggy _still_ pampering his cup, she thought of a way to create something like this for Matt too. She was now a woman on a mission. She searched the net for printing offices with braille printers in Hell’s Kitchen, trying to find one which would be able to impress braille on a sticker. Vera thought that if everyone could see their name on cups, Matt deserved the same.

She failed her mission. Websites of companies in Hell’s Kitchen was crap. When she called Terri asking in quiet voice if she would be willing to participate in her secret mission, she honest to god squeaked and _yes_ she would walk every single street and alleyway in the area ( _with Victor_ ), to find the right office for her needs. Vera was grinning for the rest of her day.

On Monday, Claire came to visit her in her nurse outfit. She asked her about her well-being and soon changed the topic to their mutual friend Mike (because Mrs. Nasty was still in the room). Claire said Mike _was_ _stopping by her apartment more often than ever_ and that _he was overstretching himself and it was hurting him_. Vera understood the code and she _didn’t get it._ She told Claire she _talked to him over the phone_ _just yesterday_ and she _didn’t suspect anything_. Claire snorted, because _it’s not like he would advert it_. Vera was pissed at herself she hadn’t notice. Claire also said she thought _he felt guilty about something_ and glared at her significantly. Vera shot her an uncomprehending look. Claire rolled her eyes and told her to _try to explain to him it wasn’t his fault next time she would see him_. Vera was absolutely clueless but agreed anyway. She had no idea what just happened.

\---

Five days. Five days and they offered her an early discharge from the hospital. Vera immediately agreed – she couldn’t wait to get out of here and she knew the bill would be bitch already. She would have to come back on Monday so they could replace her casts for splints, she still needed a bandage for her ribs and they strongly recommended her to move as little as possible unless she wanted to ruin the healing process.  She was nodding so hard her neck actually hurt more than her ribs.

Nina helped her with her stuff and welcomed her home. She had cleaned up her apartment; there was no _blood on the wall_. Vera hugged her carefully and the tears in her eyes that had nothing to do with physical pain.

On Saturday, she went to MDDC for tea and talk, hoping Mrs. Walker would be in. She was, rebuked Vera for coming so soon, but agreed with giving her an afternoon shift on Monday; if she promised her to take it easy and leave early. (Vera was glad she agreed with the afternoon. She would come to hospital in the morning and there would be no casts to bother her at work.) Michelle was blatantly staring at Vera (Vera realized the police had asked her about her disappearance and now, she showed up after two weeks with barely visible left arm and hand, moving like a robot because of her ribs) and the other girl at the counter (most likely Barbara) pierced her with her eyes, examining thoroughly. Vera was relieved when she left.

She spent most of the weekend lying around and catching up with friends and family. Marky let all girls know about the design they had chosen for the wedding invitation, so they spent several moments awwwwing over it. Vera talked for two solid hours on the phone with Terri – it was obvious she was absolutely smitten by Victor, yet she didn’t forget her friend. She said a surprise was waiting for Vera at MDDC. Vera was so scattered by her constant rambling that she didn’t give it much thought.

It turned out she should have – when she came to work on Monday ( _with no casts_ , _only splints_ , hurray), there was an envelope with tiny pieces of paper. No, _stickers_. And _Matt_ was impressed in each of them. Or at least Vera hoped it was. She grinned, tucked few of them in the pocket of her apron and she couldn’t wait to use them.

She did. The very same day, an unnaturally slim young woman with blonde hair and very bright blue eyes came in and ordered three different coffees _for Foggy, Matt and Karen_. So this must have been Nelson  & Murdock’s very own secretary (and partner as well, as Matt had pointed out while talking to Vera last Sunday). Vera tried to hide her excitement behind a polite smile and made sure she got the names right on each cup. She secretly stuck Matt’s name over the bar code, so it wasn’t visible to everyone at first sight and handed the holder to Karen with goodbyes.

She took her break right after so she could text Terri. **_Thanks. And it’s done._ ** Vera was fidgeting for the rest of the day, ignoring the confused gaze of her co-workers.

Of course, she didn’t forget to call Terri when she got home safe, at _eight_ p.m. Her friend praised her for it.

\---

On Tuesday she had the morning shift since she left earlier the previous day. Terri and Becky were on her shift as well. There were no significant events, except people being crazy about the pumpkin latte that had been added to menu few weeks ago since Halloween was now literally at the door. Vera didn’t get it. It smelled like coffee (yeah, its smell did not grow on her during her time at MDDC, she wasn’t tempted to try it out again) and awfully like a burned bad apple. But hey, if people were willing to pay extra money for it, who was she to judge them.

Terri wouldn’t shut up about Victor.

And she bugged Vera about Matt. “No, Terri, we are still not dating and I don’t really think he would be interested.”

Which gave her friend new ammo. “But you totally would be, wouldn’t you?”

“ _Ježišmarja_. I am not going to answer that question,” Vera huffed, embarrassed as hell, hoping her crush wasn’t as obvious to anyone as it was to Terri.

“You sooooo would. Not that anyone can blame you, let’s be honest.”

Vera face-palmed and rather waited for the end of their shift before she told her she was heading to Fogwell’s that night (so Terri knew that she was going to report to her late, around half past ten). She tried not to blush too hard when Terri asked ‘ _Are you meeting your booooyfriend?’_ and left her question without answer. It didn’t deserve one.

Vera wasn’t planning any thorough cleaning - she was still stiff at least and she _did_ wear splints. She wasn’t crazy. But she anticipated it wouldn’t get miraculously better in the next week (so she could do her job properly) and it would be less exacting if she did the clean-up in baby steps. Vera was pretty sure the gym would be a mess since no one probably took care of it for two weeks.

She took out the garbage. (Gross. She would expect someone would do that earlier since the whole place smelled because of it and she had to give it a very good airing to be able to breathe.) She dusted the top of the lockers lightly and wiped the floors, planning to round off with her beloved punching bags. It was a force of a habit.

Vera was finishing the floor when he came. She snapped her head up as she heard the creek of the door, surprised. Maybe she shouldn’t be – he had been busy lately, after all. She guessed he needed to train apart from actually, uh, _hitting people_. He wasn’t wearing his workout clothes, but he had his bag. She suspected it was due to the cold - wandering around wearing only sweatpants after exercising wasn’t exactly wise. She wondered whether he was wearing anything else than his thin black _something_ these nights. It was getting really cold.

Vera shook off her reflections and returned to reality. She realized that the floor was still wet.

“Matt!” she yelped and she had to sound panicked, because Matt froze, hand still at the knob as he closed the door.

Vera fought the urge to face-palm again; she did that a lot these days. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just… the floor is wet. Slippery. Be careful,” she said in a normal voice and he visibly relaxed.

“Hi, Vera. Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind,” he smiled and hung his coat at the coat-stand at the door.

“Yeah, yeah…” she muttered under her breath as he made his way to the punching bags. His steps were indeed cautious. She wiped the last spot, pulled of the glove from her right hand and leaned into the edge of the ring. She was tired.

“How are you?” he asked her as he came closer, frowning. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Yeah. She should. “I’m almost good now.” Partial lie. “Wanted to do something. I hate sitting at home.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “So you weren’t working at the café on Monday?”

And she totally walked into this one. “Uhm…”

He inclined his head, teasing her. “Or today?”

Could he smell coffee from her hair or what? Damn. She really hoped he couldn’t. He folded his cane, took off his glasses and placed them in the ring next to her backpack together with his bag. There were sparks of amusement and _something_ in his eyes.

“I was. Maybe,” she admitted and felt like he was cornering her when he took a step in her direction. She took a step aside, mirroring his move, almost knocking over the bucket of muddy water.

His proximity wasn’t good for her heart. It sped up. And she would _swear_ his lips twitched with entertainment, because he could most likely hear that. He didn’t take another step though.

“I got your… message. _Thank you_ ,” Matt said simply, his smile softening.

It struck her heart even harder, because his sightless eyes were observing her like… like… he was _moved_. Vera had no idea what to say. But she felt that the little sticker revealed her feelings more clearly than she had planned. Also, she was hoping Terri didn’t screw up (possibly on purpose) and didn’t print out _love_ (or another four-letter word Vera could easily confuse with _Matt)_. The idea horrified her.

“S-sure. It’s uhm… I had a little help. I though it may-” _do not say ,please you’_ , “that you may like it.” _There_.

“I did.”

Silence. Slow step and hesitant touch on the fingers of her left hand sticking out of her splint. Her breath hitched. _What_ was he doing?

“How is your wrist?” His sightless gaze was directed on it. Vera gulped against the lump in her throat.

“Better.”

“And arm?”

“B-Better. Too,” she faltered, not recognizing her own voice, sounding too husky.

_Get it together. He’s just touching your hand._

Another step closer. His other hand hovering inches from her side. “Ribs?”

Vera thought she might suffocate. If she would breathe in profoundly enough, his fingers would touch her side. She fought that temptation bravely. Her head was spinning from the effort though. She had no idea what was he doing. _His proximity_. It was _too intimate_. This was different from her touching him when leading him in the hospital.

Matt raised his head and looked at her seriously. He demanded her answer. She let out a shaky breath.

“Healing,” she admitted. He would most likely know if she lied. It was unfair.

His gaze was so intense she could melt under it. He nodded a bit. She thought she heard him saying ‘ _good’_ , but she wasn’t sure. All she could hear now was her own heartbeat in her ears. Extremely loud and fast.

And his fingers almost touching her side reached for her face tenderly and she closed her eyes. Her heart was about to explode any second. His thumb stroked her cheek.

“Head and jaw?” he asked somehow hoarsely and his breath tickled her face as he spoke.

When did he get _so close_ to her?

Vera swallowed and licked her lips, not opening her eyes. Her mind was unable to form a single word. _Matt_ was leaning into her _very personal_ _space_ , _touching_ her and she _couldn’t think_.

“May I?” he whispered. She had the craziest idea of what he was asking and she wasn’t confident she was wrong.

She leaned in, just slightly, in case she misjudged. She didn’t. His lips touched hers hesitantly, uncertain, disappearing too soon. She subconsciously followed them as they pulled away, not wanting to lose that tremendous feeling.

Matt kissed her again, his mouth caressing her lower lip, hand moving to the back of her head for steadying it. His grip was firm on her elbow, not planning to release her soon. The idea sent a jolt of electricity to the base of her spine.

Matt was _kissing_ her. Her knees were turning into jello, her mind was painfully blank and yet he occupied every corner of it and those sinful lips were not kissing but _attacking_ hers now and she was fighting back enthusiastically and— he froze.

His mouth still lightly attached to hers, he smiled. ”I think you should pick up.” She felt the vibration of his words against her lips, that movement sending shivers down her spine all over again.

 _What?_ Pick up what?

Her phone was ringing. She hated that malicious device. She exhaled, suddenly aware she stopped breathing along the way.

“I should _not,_ ” Vera whispered back into his lips stubbornly. She didn’t want to break this beautiful, surreal and _extremely_ _unexpected_ moment.

“It might get the caller upset,” he offered in quiet voice, not taking any action. He didn’t withdraw an inch.

The ringtone was echoing in the half-empty broad space, cutting into her ears intrusively. Someone persistent. Vera would suffocate the caller in _her_ sleep. She had a pretty good idea who she was.

“Well, now _I am_ upset.”

Vera opened her eyes slowly, greeted by his closed ones. As she leaned back (with intensive displeasure) her gaze flickered to his lips. They were redder than before, crimson. From _kissing her_. The thought was breath-taking.

“We’ll do something about it later.” They moved, forming a smile. Matt opened his eyes too, soft. The words sent a wave of warm and electricity to her abdomen. _Šmarja_. _Don’t say things like that._

He let go of her neck and elbow and she almost whined at the lost. She fished out the phone, which was still demanding her attention.

Of course it was her.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?” Terri yelled through the speaker, her voice pissed like never.

Vera shot Matt a look. He was casually leaning onto the edge of the ring, smiling innocently as if he hadn’t been kissing the shit out of her just few seconds ago. Did he? Or was it just a crazy figment of her imagination?

Terri asked her a question. She should answer. _Say something_. _Form words. With your mouth_. Oh there were much better things to do with her mouth…

“Te-“ Vera cleared her throat, working against the lump in it. “Terri?”

There was a relieved sigh on the other side of a phone. “You didn’t report you arrival home.”

Vera was fairly certain Matt could hear both sides of the conversation (which wasn’t difficult since Terri was still loud), because his lips twitched. _His lips_.

“I’m… uhm. Not home. Yet.” _Bravo._

“Where _are_ you?”

“Still.” She licked her lips _,_ tasting Matt on them. _Speak, Macháčková. In sentences._ “Still at Fogwell’s.”

“Fogwell’s,” Terri repeated sceptically.

“Yes.”

“As in the gym you’re cleaning up at.”

“Yes. That. Cleaning up. Exactly.” She _was_. Earlier.

“What the _hell_ is taking you so-“ her friend paused in mid-sentence as if something struck her. “Oh. _OH_. You know what? Never mind. I’m hanging up now.”

 _Oh my god_ , what was she thinking Vera was doing there? Did she do the math? Did she think Matt came and… and did what?

“Terri, it’s not— it’s not what you think. Whatever you just imagined in your insane _dirty_ mind, anyway.” _Wow_. _Two whole sentences. Yay for her._

Matt took a step closer, holding out his hand. Vera frowned at him, confused with the action.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Just… just let me know when you get home, okay?”

Matt made the gesture again, pleading. Did he want her phone? “Uhm. Terri? Someone wants to talk to you?” she raised her voice as if she was asking and Matt smiled and nodded. She gave him the phone and heard a panicked _WHAT?_ from the speaker as she did so.

Matt’s face was suddenly pure seriousness. “Good evening, _Theresa_ ,” he said in a strange tone Vera never heard before and wondered whether it was his _lawyer voice_ , direct, authoritative – yet not so engaging as his vigilante one. “It’s Matt. Don’t worry about Vera. I’ll walk her home and keep her save. Even if it costs me my life.”

Vera felt her jaw slightly fall down in awe at his declaration, heavy with solemnity. No one could doubt about the truth in his words. Terri might, but only because she would suspect he was being dramatic. Vera wasn’t so sure.

Vera couldn’t hear Terri’s reaction, but judging by the smugness on Matt’s face, he made an impression. He let his arm drop. “I think she believed me. Also, it looks like you have to go with me now,” he told her, shrugging casually, face innocent again. She gaped at him, no sound coming out, not sure how exactly she should react. His expression changed, worried. “Sorry. Too much?”

Vera hurried to comfort him. “No! No. I mean. Maybe? I don’t know. You don’t have to— to walk me home.”

Matt felt the edge of the ring mattress before laying her phone there. His fingers found her forearm. “I’d like to. If you allow me to, that is.” He hesitated. “I didn’t want to assume you would.”

“I… I didn’t see that coming,” she admitted, melting under his touch again. He looked thoughtful, his eyes distant, his head tilting.

“Which part?” he asked and Vera suspected he was talking about his previous actions as well. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the memory. She bit her lip. She could still taste him, but the feeling was slowly fading away. She wished for refreshing it. _Soon_. _Over and over again._

She gathered all her courage and took a step closer, shy, still afraid of rejection; he could have done it the heat of the moment after all, it could have passed already.

She gulped and raised her head subtly so she could face him. Matt wasn’t much taller, his mouth was levelling her eyes before she did it. “All of it.”

He bowed his head to her, gorgeous smile reaching his lips. She knew he presumed which part caught her off guard the most. He rested his forehead and then _lips_ against hers.

“How could you not to?” he whispered, hand tracing her arm up until it found her jaw. He wasn’t kissing her, yet their lips were touching – it was the strangest feeling she never experienced before. She loved it.

Vera had no idea what to say. She reflected all their encounters, both masked and unmasked. He was always polite, patient, _gentle_ , but she assumed it was just the way he treated everyone.  The way he was. Except the moment in the dark room – but that was the vigilante comforting a victim of a kidnapping. Or that surreal dream-experience in the hospital – that was the Devil making sure said victim had been alright (and grabbing a balloon on his way). _Matt_ might have a moment with her in the gym. Matt visited her in the hospital, a concerned friend, bringing flowers as the proper gentleman he was.

“ _How could you not to_?” he repeated almost sighing, then fondling her lower lip couple times, his thumb stroking her cheek.

She closed her eyes, losing herself in his tenderness. Her whole world was spinning. She sucked on his upper lip experimentally and he gently bit her back. Her body tingled, unwittingly pressing against his, her hand shooting up to his hair, interweaving her fingers in the strands.

The sound in the back of his throat set Vera’s body to fire. His arm pulling her closer sent her ribs to agony. She gasped, shocked by the sudden pain.

He let go of her so fast she would end up on the floor if there wasn’t the ring in her reach. Vera caught it to steady herself. She blinked in surprise and eyed Matt – his face was twisted with what she read as guilt.

 _‘I think he’s feeling guilty about something’,_ Claire had said. Vera hadn’t understood at the time – but could he be feeling guilty because of _her_? No. That would be ridiculous.

They were both panting, gasping for air. “I’m so sor-“

“Do _not_ say sorry,” she interrupted him rudely, “unless you’re sorry for kissing me.” Vera was surprised by the strength in her voice _._ She wasn’t sorry in the slightest. Her ribs were burning at the moment, but it was worth it. _God, so worth it._

His grimace got worse and the idea him actually regret the kiss wrecked her instantly. It stung her heart so painfully it skipped a beat. Her hand shot out that direction as it could ease the ache in her chest.

“Are you?” she demanded, lamely covering her emotions. _Was it bad?_ left unspoken.

“Of course I am not,” he protested, sounding offended. She felt she could breathe again. “However I am deeply sorry for causing you pain.” Matt didn’t approach her. He was giving her space for making the next move.

Vera realized it wasn’t the only thing he was waiting for. Hoping for, perhaps. “Then I forgive you,” she said simply.

He made the smallest motion with his head and _listened_. She was still freaked out by the fact he could apparently listen to her heartbeat, but she was starting appreciating the ability. Vera knew she wasn’t lying when saying the words – she wasn’t surprised he couldn’t hear any new irregularity in her pulse. However, she was astonished by the effect of her words. His posture visibly relaxed and his face almost cleared. With his eyes closed, he whispered few words in a language she didn’t understand, yet felt familiar.

They both jumped at the sound of a received text on her phone. She took it and huffed in disbelief when reading it.

“What?”

She chuckled, wondering from which planet her friend came from. “It’s Terri. She’s ordering me to _cut the make-out session and dart home immediately_. Já se z ní picnu.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Guess we better get you home.”

Vera got rid of the clean-up stuff, changed and picked her backpack. Matt left his, planning on returning.

As they walked out and Matt’s had curled  around her elbow so he didn’t have to use his cane, he asked about her last sentence.

“I’ll tell you if _you_ tell me what you muttered under your breath earlier,” she offered, curious by herself.

He hesitated and then shook his head. “I guess some secrets are meant to remain hidden.”

“Dammit!” she cursed and he laughed. Vera felt something uneasy in that sound and wondered what secrets he was talking about.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Šmarja – Jeez._  
>  Já se zní picnu. – yeeeah, I don’t know. Basically: One day I’ll end up in a madhouse because of her .
> 
>  
> 
> Both titles from Rhodes - Wishes


	14. 11) I’ve been sleepless at night (‘cause now I know how I feel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that some kind of a bribe?”  
> “You bet your ass it is. I want to know _everything._ ”  
> “Then I guess you better put the cheesecake back.”  
> “But it’s your favourite!”  
> “Terri!”  
> “Come on! I don’t want any juicy details! I mean, if you wanna share, that’s totally cool, but…”  
> “There are no juicy details to share… I am not exchanging the info about my love life for a cake!”

“Is that some kind of a bribe?” Vera asked, suspicious, sensing something fishy about her friend waiting for her in café at 5:15 with tea and a slice of cheesecake.

“You bet your ass it is. I want to know _everything_ ,” she answered, not even bothering hiding her ulterior motives.

Vera rolled her eyes and passed the table Terri was sitting at. “Then I guess you better put the cheesecake back.”

“But it’s your favourite!” her friend exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

Vera didn’t react and left to change to her uniform. She made sure there were some stickers in her pocket. When she came back, Terri was still sitting there, pouting.

“Terri…”

“Come on! I don’t want any juicy details! I mean, if you wanna share, that’s totally cool, but…”

“There are no juicy details to share!” She smiled for herself, sitting across from her friend, reaching for her cup. Terri reached for the cheesecake. “Hey, I thought that was meant for me!”

“It _was_. But then you decided to go all tight-lipped, so…” Terri eyed her, considering, then gave her a bright smile, “give me _something_ and it’s yours.”

“Ew. I am not exchanging the info about my love life for a cake!” Vera objected, offended. “But I might tell you _something_ , because you are my amazing friend and I’m sure you’re happy for me and you helped me with the stickers which he obviously liked very much.”

“Do tell!” Terri moved the cheesecake to Vera’s side of the table anyway.

Vera tried really hard not to grin like a teenage girl with her first crush, but just the memory of yesterday made her all tingling.

On their way to her apartment, Matt had asked her to dinner with his _May I?_ and expression almost timid, like there was any change of rejection. She had said yes, of course, they had settled on Friday and exchanged numbers, so he could let her know the details. He had asked her about her preferences, horrified when he had found out she had only had chinese once (in a crappy stall), vietnamese did not agree with her and she had never had mexican or anything else. When she had admitted she wasn’t much of a wine person (or any kind of drinker, really), he had seemed on verge of desperation. When Vera had gathered her courage again and kissed him at least on his cheek (just because she _could_ ) with ‘ _I’m not so hard to please’_ he had smiled at her gorgeously and pecked her lips with ‘ _okay’_. They hadn’t talked much after that, both lost in their thoughts. In front of her apartment building, he had taken her face to his hands, cold due to the autumn night air, and kissed her slowly, deeply, _sweetly,_ making her dizzy for the third time that day and given her another small kiss on her forehead for goodnight. She had made it to the flat before she started giggling like crazy, realizing retrospectively he could have probably heard that. It had made her giggle even more. She had texted Terri goodnight and went to bed after quick shower. She fell asleep with a goofy grin.

Now, she kept it together for the sake of her friend.  Or so she thought.

“Oh my god, you got it soooo bad,” her friend laughed at her and Vera looked at her in surprise. ”You just zoned out for like three minutes. Also, you’re grinning like an idiot. It looks good on you. What happened yesterday?”

Vera tried to make her lips to stop smiling. It took a lot of effort and worked for about five seconds.

“He kissed me. He kept his promise and walked me home, safe, as you know since I _texted you_.  Asked me out.”

She kept it simple. She didn’t want to give away how over the heels she was for him and how tender and passionate he was. How quickly their relationship changed, how they couldn’t stop touching (or at least she couldn’t) and how _natural_ it felt.

“Wow. I am _so_ impressed with your narrative skills,” Terri exclaimed with annoyance, but she was smiling too. “Just tell me something. One more thing.”

Vera didn’t like the tone of her voice. “Shoot.”

“Is he a good kisser?” And _oh_ , Vera did not see that coming. She totally should have though.

“Yes,” she blurted out immediately, not even thinking about it.

 _Yes_. _Oh my god_ , yes. She would kill for another kiss, because it made her toes curl and he hadn’t even need to use tongue and on Friday there were going to be more of those kisses and-

Terri squeaked. “OH MY GOD, you’re so full of it! You are blushing SO hard right now!”

Vera hid her red face in her hand and squeaked too. “I am NOT!”

“Yes, yes, you ARE!” she laughed and smacked her arm. “I’m happy for you.”

Vera peeked at her between her fingers.  Her friend was teasing her, but her eyes were shining with honesty.

“Are you having a nice coffee break, darlings?” an annoyed voice of Olivia no.1 (read _Olivia herself_ ) mocked them and Vera snapped back to reality.

“Sorry.” She shoved the cake in Terri’s direction, sticking out her tongue.

There was no way of wiping off Vera’s smile that day anyway.

\---

She started to panic on Wednesday evening. Naturally, she called Terri.

“Terri, I have no idea what to wear. I have no idea where are we going! What if I wear cocktail dress to fast-food or denim miniskirt to a five-stars restaurant! I mean, it’s not like I have cocktail dress in here, but-”

“Vera!”

“What?!”

“He’s not taking you to fast-food.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t do that-”

“Also, what do you mean you have no cocktail dress in here? Were you planning to hide in you apartment whole year? Jeez, girl. We are so going shopping tomorrow.”

“We are?” Vera asked her, surprised. Why was she so surprised— oh, right. “But you’ve got a date with Victor.”

“I do,” Terri admitted. “And?”

“And?!”

“So we’re going before that. I’m free tomorrow, just like you. Stop freaking out.”

“But-”

“Yes. Butt. We are going to make sure your butt looks great.” She made a dramatic pause. ”Or feels great, whatever. Deal?”

Vera let out a shaky laugh and took few deep breaths. “Okay. Okay. I’m not wearing splints for the shopping and for the date. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Wrong. It’s gonna be a legendary story I am going to narrate your future kids. Get it together. And for god’s sake, do not text him to ask about the place you’re going. Goodnight.” Terri hung up.

The idea of texting Matt hadn’t occured to her until Terri mentioned it. And truth to be told, it sounded like a perfect plan. He wouldn’t have to tell her the exact place, right? Just a hint? So she wouldn’t embarrass herself. Or him for that matter.

Vera took her phone and started texting. She deleted every single word the very same second she wrote it. It sounded so stupid no matter how she phrased it. And Terri had said _not_ to text him. She hadn’t say a word about calling though…. Her heart stopped at the idea of hearing his voice and also her making an ass of herself while not being able to finish a single sentence. Nope. No calling.

**_Hey Matt, sorry to bother. I just wanted to ask about Friday. Is there anything in particular I should wear? I mean, formal, semi-casual? Wouldn’t want to make a faux-paux. V_ **

The moment Vera pressed _Send_ , she wished she hadn’t. She groaned, falling to her bed (and ouch, ribs were still very sensitive despite the doctor’s permission not to wear the elastic bandage anymore) and buried her face into her pillow.

As if Terri knew exactly what Vera had done, Vera’s phone started ringing.

“Ježiši Kriste,” she groaned into the pillow and reached her phone blindly, accepting the call. “Terri, I did something terrible.”

Silence followed. Then: “I guess it’s a good thing that I know a good attorney then,” the very male voice said on the other end of the line and Vera yelped, checking the ID just to make sure.

“Matt. Hi.” _He’s cancelling the date. He’s cancelling the date because he realized you’re a total looser._

“Is it a bad time?” he asked hesitantly, probably bewildered by her desperate voice. Vera supressed another groan and tried to sound like a normal person. She sat up on the bed.

“No. Not at all.” And _ha!_ he might actually be as lost as she was, because he couldn’t hear her heartbeat now. _Could_ _he_?

“Oh. Good.” He didn’t sound like he believed her, but he let it slide. “Clothing is up to you. I wasn’t planning any high-class restaurant or something like that, even though if you want to, I can change it of course-“

“No! No, I mean— I’m sorry. I freaked out. I wouldn’t want to… uhm.” And here it came, her extraordinary ability to form a sentence which would actually made sense… not.

“Wouldn’t want to what?” he asked softly.

_He’s not gonna laugh at you. It’s Matt. He’s never laughing at you, flashing amused smiles, yes, but not laughing… Doesn’t mean he can’t think you’re being stupid, though._

“I wouldn’t want to… to people think you are going out with someone like… total lowlife with no sense of fashion, okay? Which I totally do _not_ have, I don’t understand the five different types of formal clothing and you probably _do_ and even though people might think you are on a business dinner with a _client_ , it would be still embarrassing as hell and you are a _freaking_ lawyer the whole Hell’s Kitchen loves and like _everyone_ is getting coffee at MDDC, so they might recognize me and-” she was rambling now and she was talking about things she shouldn’t, because it was her worries and not his problem, and she was hyperventilating and it made her chest hurt and her head spin and not in a good way.

“Vera. Vera, calm down,” he urged and Vera realized he might have been trying to tell her something for a while, so she shut up, biting her cheek to keep herself from talking. ”I want you to remember, that I’m taking _you_ on a dinner, okay? _You_. I don’t care about the five different types of formal clothing, it’s shit. I care about you. No super-fancy restaurant, where you have to worry about using the right fork, unless you want me to make a different reservation. Otherwise don’t worry about it. Wear anything you like, you feel comfortable in, be yourself, because that’s the girl I asked on a date, because I think she’s amazing.”

Vera felt relief washing over her by listening  to his voice alone, speaking in a soothing tone, so close to the one he had used when he visited her in the hospital the first night. She appreciated his sweet words and she wondered how exactly she deserved the attention of _this_ man. And then there was-

“Did you just make a Pretty Woman reference?” she asked him on the edge of tears and a maniac laugh.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe. I’m looking forward Friday. I have a reservation at seven, is that okay? You rather walk or take a cab?”

“I… I don’t know. Seven is great. Maybe a cab there and walk back? Or reverse? Or both cab? I… it’s up to you Matt.” _I am making an ass of myself already by admitting I am OUT of my mind._

“Cab and walk it is. I’ll pick you up around ten to seven.”

“Thank you, Matt. And I’m sorry for… uhm, the scene. I really am.  I’m looking forward Friday too, very much,” she admitted in a small voice.

“That’s all I need. Good night, Vera.”

“Night, Matt.”

He hung up and she fell back to the covers, hand over her mouth. Her feelings were mingling in her as she was incredibly touched by Matt’s speech. When she recalled her own rambling, she remembered that at some point, she had said _lawyer the whole Hell’s Kitchen loves_ and realized how close to the truth she had been. Vera might not be in love with him yet, but she was _falling in love with him_ in an astronomic speed and the dizzying feeling of a free fall never felt so right.

She couldn’t fell asleep that night. She read for few moments before noticing she was reading the same page over and over again and the image of Matt’s smile and warm gaze was swimming in front of her eyes. She gave up, put on her comfy hoodie and sweatpants and opened a window, nestling on its inner and partly outer ledge. She closed her eyes since they were no real use now and listened to the city rush she never liked. Hell’s Kitchen was different from Prague. Not better, not worse. Different.  Pulsing like a human being, whole with its liveliness and imperfections. She wondered whether Matt liked it or he just came to terms with it. Vera couldn’t hear any cries for help. She wondered how the city sounded to him while he was listening to it, letting the noise consume her. It was overwhelming. She couldn’t stand it. Yet, she managed another minutes before closing the window, stripping and sliding into her covers. Her sleep was restless.

\---

Terri chewed her. She was furious about Vera not listening to her advice and swore her revenge. Also, she pointed out the bags under her eyes and smacked the back of her head for not sleeping enough. They took a cab and when they arrived, Vera was certain her friend found the biggest mall on the island of Manhattan.

And Terri took her _everywhere_. She admitted she kinda liked the style with the leggings and skirt Vera wore the first day she came to MDDC (how could she remember _that_ was a mystery for Vera). She claimed that since Matt wouldn’t no able to see how hot she would be on their date, Terri would make sure the whole Hell’s Kitchen noticed, so he could hear them whispering and wolf whistling. Vera was actually worried when she realized he actually _would_ hear every single comment about her.

In the end, she liked the outfit they found, including the new shoes. Terri promised her the last stop. Vera stood in front of the boutique and refused to come in, because she _did not_ need new underwear (especially not because of the date, she was not planning on things going… there), Terri let out an _ooooh, honey_ noise and dragged her in. She made her put on a _freaking_ negligee which barely held together and Vera was blushing just from looking at it. Terri bought it for her as her punishment and Vera was determined to shove it in the darkest corner of her closet and never _ever_ wear it.

They left after five hours and Vera was exhausted. Her arm was prickling from the constant changing. Maybe she shouldn’t have put the splints off just yet. The cab driver dropped her in front of her building and she split the bill with Terri again. Sharing a cab was significantly less pricy – still a bitch though.

 ---

First hours of her Friday morning shift were painfully slow. After nine, it blended together and she almost missed Foggy getting coffee for him and his co-workers. She added a sticker on Matt’s and wrote YAY on Foggy’s cup since it _was_ a foggy day and handed it him the cups in a holder with her grin poorly hidden behind a polite smile. He hadn’t noticed, but his gaze flickered between her and Barbara thoughtfully as if he was solving a very difficult puzzle. Outside, he examined the cups and his head snapped up in her direction through the windows. She couldn’t resist and gave him a cheerful wave. He disappeared in the crowd as fast as he could.

In the afternoon, she actually napped, because she didn’t want to fell asleep on the date she was excited for since Tuesday (which was highly unlikely, Matt’s presence made her hyper-alert, but better safe than sorry). She took her time with preparations, but didn’t put a ton of cosmetics on her face – she wasn’t used to it and she had a feeling that Matt would know. Plus, it was _raining_.

When Matt texted her the cab would be at her place in five minutes, she stepped out from her flat making sure she used her right foot first. Saying she would nervous was an understatement. But Matt waited for her at the door with an umbrella, offering her his arm, small honest smile on his lips and she suddenly knew it was going to be alright.

The ride was short and quiet. Matt toyed with her fingers whole time and paid for the taxi. When they got out the car, she would swear she heard the driver whistle at her. She was probably right, because Matt shut the door with more force than necessary and placed his hand to the small of her back. Vera fought the self-satisfaction radiating from her face.

Matt chose a very nice restaurant; maybe not _super fancy_ , but definitely not cheap. She sighed in relief when she looked around and assessed she was not underdressed. She liked Matt’s outfit too – he was wearing plain dark blue shirt and black trousers. No jacket, just coat. The only annoying thing was his glasses – when the hostess seated them at their table in less crowded part of the _mexican_ restaurant, he took them off. Vera appreciated it.

When she handed them their menu, Vera found out she had no idea what any of those words meant. Also that Matt wouldn’t be able to read it. She considered shortly before she spoke up.

“You… do you want me to read it out loud? I mean, I could… but I’ll mess it up, because I don’t speak Spanish and never heard of these before.”

Vera eyed him nervously. Was it offensive? She felt like it was their first date after only one brief meeting and she didn’t know how to treat him.

“I would love to hear that,” he said with a hint of an amused smile, ( _well, thank you)_ , “but I know the menu. Personally, I would recommend quesadilla. It’s a classic and this place is good at it.”

Vera nodded. “Okay. Okay.” An idea struck her. “Ever been to Mexico?”

He laughed. “No. No, no. But I like to think I do recognize good food when tasting it. I never left New York, Vera.”

And Vera wanted to sink into the floor. There was probably no use for a blind man to travel much. “Right. I’m sorry. That was a stupid question.”

Their waiter took their orders (Vera had no idea what Matt ordered for himself, but he sounded _freaking_ _hot_ while doing it. She definitely had a language kink from that moment.) and Matt frowned. Then his face cleared and he flashed her a smug smile.

“It’s okay. And you’re beautiful tonight.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

His grin widened. “The waiter.” Vera shot their waiter a look – he was watching their table attentively. “He can’t take his eyes of you. How do I know that? Call it an educated guess.”

Did the waiter say something to his colleagues? Could Matt sense attraction? Or could it be his pulse elevating? Maybe it was the way their waiter moved? Matt sensed or heard that? _Damn_.

Vera huffed. “Thanks. I guess. But I didn’t dress up for _him_ ,” she admitted and Matt bit his lower lip while still smiling.

“Glad to hear that. So, can I ask… why New York? Or Hell’s Kitchen for that matter?” he seemed genuinely curious. Vera didn’t blame him. If someone chose to move/visit New York, Hell’s Kitchen would hardly be their first choice.

“Coincidence.”

“Coincidence?”

“Okay, more like luck. My friend’s aunt bought an apartment here after the… attack, apparently she was hoping the price would go up in time. She’s from California, though. I don’t get it, but hey. Nina, uhm, her friend, she’s taking care of the apartment for her. I just dropped out of college. I needed a change. Jumped the opportunity of relatively cheap rent and more or less knowing someone here.”

Their food arrived and since Matt had pointed out their waiter’s attention earlier, she noticed his eyes were sliding along her figure. It made her uncomfortable. Matt cleared his throat and the waiter jumped and fled. Their food looked delicious though.

“That was rude,” she exclaimed, “he didn’t even told us to enjoy it.”

Matt chuckled. “Well, I hope you will.”

Oh, she _did_. 

They fell in comfortable silence, until Matt interrupted it. “College? What did you study?”

Vera tensed. She wasn’t proud of that. Or quitting it. Or both. “Med school.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Vera hesitated. She didn’t want to talk about her reasons for running away from it, it wasn’t exactly the perfect topic for a date, but on the other hand, she wanted to tell Matt _something_.  And he would know if she lied, so she pretty much didn’t have a choice. “I was always the girl who had perfect grades. I met a guy when in high school. He pretty much convinced me to try out med school, because he kept saying that I am too smart for not to. It wasn’t what I wanted; I hate chemistry, don’t like physics. But it was a challenge and being doctor is noble enough. I was handling it, even passed my biochemistry class by some miracle. We broke up and I realized I wasn’t happy there and M.D. was his dream, not mine. I wouldn’t make a good doctor.  So I dyed my hair and escaped to America,” she finished, trying to ending with a light note.

Matt obviously didn’t know what to say and welcomed her escape route. “What colour was your hair?”

Her lips twitched. Good call. Smooth. “Light brown. I switched to black.”

“I’m sorry.”

Vera frowned. “For what?”

“It didn’t work out for you. You-” he felt silent, like he wanted to say something but then changed his mind. Vera desperately wanted to change the subject.

“So… why lawyer?” she asked the big question despite being confident she knew his answer. He wanted to _help_ people. Bring justice.

He surprised her.

“It was my father’s wish,” he said with a soft smile, “he wanted to me use my brain and not fists.” _That turned out well._ “He was a boxer. But I guess you know that. Everyone knows. Just like everyone knows about how I lost my sight.”

“I saw the posters at Fogwell’s…” Vera admitted hesitantly. She could tell it was a sore subject for him. Not that she blamed him. “And yeah, Terri told me the story of a nine-year old hero. Sorry.”

He let out an unhappy chuckle. “Yeah. Anyway, he never treated me differently after the accident. Believed in me. Kept telling me that I could probably read braille faster than he could read newspaper. After he died, I wanted to do something to honour his memory.”

“And help people,” Vera continued before she could stop herself.

Matt looked at her face curiously, inquiring. “What makes you to say that?”

She rolled her eyes, feeling sorry he couldn’t see that. Could he _hear_ an eye roll?

“Seriously? Matt, you’re an attorney accepting payment in bananas.” _And running around saving people with your ninja skills instead of sleeping._ “It’s kinda hard to miss that altruism is a dominant part of your personality.”

Corners of his lips turned up slightly. “Sounds rich, coming from you.”

“Sure. I am saving lives on a daily basis. Giving caffeine junkies their daily dope.”

Matt gasped. “Are you calling me a junkie?” he asked offended, hand dramatically over his heart, wounded. Vera almost snorted.

“No. You’re entitled. And I like you. You’re not acting like an animal to get yours,” she added so she deflected his attention from saying him _being entitled_. But he _was_. When did he even sleep? – Right. Claire told her he probably didn’t.

Vera examined his face, looking for signs of exhaustion. She couldn’t find any. The light in the room was dim, yet his eyes shined. He seemed happy.

“Thank you. I appreciate I am not considered an animal.” Vera huffed but didn’t comment.

They both finished their meals and their waiter carefully asked about desert. Vera was full. Her gaze kept flickering between the waiter and Matt, trying to figure out what he would like.

“Well?” Matt encouraged her, leaving the choice to her. The waiter gave her hopeful smile. She almost felt bad for what she said after that.

“Well, unless we’re sharing and you’re eating most of it, _honey_ , I have to refuse.”

Matt smiled brilliantly, anticipating she was mocking that poor guy. “Then I guess we have to wait until next time, _sweetheart_.” Waiter left their check and disappeared, face different shades of red.

Matt’s ‘ _sweetheart’_ echoed in Vera’s ears. She actually liked it. She would get used to it.

“Shall we?” he asked her and as they stood up. He put on his glasses again, offering her an arm despite her being the navigator.

“Ready when you are.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter was freaking long, so I divided it into two. Fluff is what I live for.  
> Title inspired by Birdy and Rhodes – Let it all go


	15. 12) I never knew (…daylight could be so violent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I always thought there was a coffee in that pickup line.”  
> “There is… but I am not trying to seduce you and I don’t have any, so…”  
> “Uh-uh.”  
> “I don’t drink coffee.”  
> “You don’t drink coffee? At all?”  
> “Nope. And I’m talking about actual coffee drinking. If you laugh at me for working in café despite it, I won’t lend you my only hoodie that you could actually fit in.”

They wanted to walk, but the rain was awfully heavy. Vera didn’t really mind – they had an umbrella after all and she would be home in no time, but Matt would have to walk home after. When she told him, he waved it off.

“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked him for the third time, after they took about ten steps and their shoes were already soggy.

He embraced her tighter, so they were both properly hidden under his huge umbrella. When he spoke, his voice was filled with smile. “We’re good. I don’t mind walking in the rain. As long as you don’t want me to sing.”

She laughed. “And what would I have to do to make you sing in the rain?”

Matt stopped in his tracks and shifted slightly, so he could face her. He let go of her arm in favour to rest it against her cheek. He was indeed smiling and Vera regretted the glasses were covering his eyes – she had a hunch they were full of amused sparks. He leaned in, lips softly touching her cheek before moving to her ear. Her body shivered involuntarily – she felt his lips twitched at her movement.

“Sing with me,” he whispered, barely containing laugh. Vera jumped away, not caring she was in the rain.

“You-“

He swept his hand, grabbing hers again and drew her back, arm wrapping around her waist and giving her an apologizing kiss. And _hello_ , he could definitely mock her more often if he would always kiss her like this after.

Car honking and a splash of water. Vera’s jaw fell down in disbelief and she gasped, letting out a mixture of laughter and silent gaping. Matt was about the same. And they were both _soaking wet_.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

 She couldn’t find a righteous rage towards the driver, because she was too happy and high at the moment. In Matt’s arms, she didn’t care much for her clothes being drenched.

“Guess we tempted fate,” he remarked, giving her a small kiss on her nose.

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it. Let’s go.”

Vera was very cold by the time they reached her apartment and she presumed Matt probably wasn’t much better. She did the thing she did the best – put her foot in her mouth.

“Wanna go upstairs?” She only realized how it sounded when she said it out loud and his eyebrow shot up unwillingly. “Oh my _god_. For tea. I have covers and _tea_.”

Matt laughed. “I always thought there was a _coffee_ in that pickup line.”

Vera wasn’t red-faced. Nope. “There is,” she declared, “but I am not trying to seduce you and I don’t have one, so…”

“Uh-uh.” He made a step in the direction of the door so Vera took it as a _yes_.

“I don’t drink coffee,” she assured him and opened the door.

“You don’t drink coffee? At all?”

“Nope. And I’m talking about actual coffee drinking. If you laugh at me for working in a café despite it, I won’t lend you my only hoodie that you could actually fit in.”

He followed her up the hall and stairs, using his cane since she left him behind. “I won’t. Also, are you saying that I am chubby?”

She laughed out loud, because he sounded honestly offended. “No, I’m saying your shoulders are like… something. Broad. Whatever.”

Matt didn’t comment.

They reached the apartment, she unlocked the door, came in and spread her arms. “Welcome to Macháčková’s, pretty much. And please, leave your shoes at the door. I’ll shove the heating thingies in them as soon as I put the kettle on.”

She put her shoes off and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. When she came back, she found Matt in the small space, stripping his coat which was dripping water. His socks were soaked as well and he was curling his toes in it, while raising his head to look in her direction, glasses already off. His eyes were fake hurt and his lips pouting. He was a picture of pure cuteness. It made her heart flutter.

Vera hung their coats, led him to the couch where she left him in favour to find some dry clothes. She realized her hoodie wasn’t washed-up and hoped he wouldn’t notice. She found her black sweatpants (least girly) for him and some clothes for herself too. In the top shelf, she discovered a soft blanket, most likely Nina’s. She took it as well, together with some warm socks.

Matt stood awkwardly by the couch, unsure what to do.

“Here. Hoodie, sweatpants, socks,” she handed it to him and chuckled, “no man underwear, sorry. You can change here, I swear I won’t peek. Is chamomile tea okay with you?”

He grinned. “Shame. Also, you’re a liar. You’ve only invited me here so you could see me naked,” he joked but then tilted his head and smiled with gratitude, “thank you.”

“Sure.”

Vera walked to the kitchen part of the room and tried really hard not to peek. She was tempted though. Very, _very_ much. His other outfit, the black one, _was_ extremely tight and didn’t leave much room for imagination (none, _none of it_ ). She could recall his body extremely vividly in retrospect. And it was an image which made her insides burn hot.

Tea. She was making _tea_. She wanted to turn back, but she fought it. And won. “You’re good?”

“Just a second.” She heard the zipper of her hoodie. “Done.”

Vera finally turned back to him and made her way to the living room with two mugs in her hands. She placed them on the small table and navigated Matt to sit on a couch. She changed herself as well (behind the corner, which made him laugh), spread their wet clothes and nestle in one of the armchairs. He frowned, but didn’t say a word.

Vera remembered the tea bags and threw them to the bin and then led Matt’s hand to the cup. As he leaned forwards, the hoodie shifted slightly and revealed a fraction of his torso.

Vera’s heart fastened. It wasn’t from excitement though, she hadn’t seen his skin, muscles. It was an _elastic bandage_. Matt’s ribs were injured. Bruised. Possibly cracked. And earlier that night he was acting like it was nothing. _Leaning_ into her. _Pulling_ her close.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” escaped her lips and Matt froze, his breath hitching. He sat back to the couch carefully.  “What-”

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly and faced her, his eyes burning with honesty.

Except Vera remembered her own ribs hurting and it was _agony_. “It’s not _nothing_. Why didn’t you say something? Matt, I _had_ injured ribs. I know it hurts like hell!”

He made an unhappy face. “I know you did.”

“Not the point!” Vera burst out. She huffed when he didn’t say anything else, his expression equivalent of guilt.

That guilt again. ‘ _I think he’s feeling guilty about something’_ and Claire’s pointed look at her. Her mind started racing, recalling her earlier thoughts. Could it be because of _her_? Was she the reason he was overstretching himself, why he was getting hurt? Some kind of a… redemption? For what? Saving her too late for his measures? Did he believe she had been taken because of him? Hurt because of him? That was…

She remembered his face when he squeezed her too tight in the gym (ribs, _fucking_ ribs again). The relief, when she said she _forgave him_.

Vera made a decision, screw the consequences. She inhaled shakily and nestled in her armchair more comfortably. “I never told you about the kidnapping,” she started and his head snapped up.

“I never asked.”

“No, you didn’t. But… I would like to tell someone about it. Can… can I?” she wasn’t really asking. She had to share it with him, because _he_ needed it.

Matt hesitated. She was sure he could hear her frantic heartbeat. She was afraid of his reaction. He could snap, he could leave. He could do anything – except for hurting her. Vera didn’t believe he would hurt her.

“Okay. Okay, if you need someone to listen.”

She smiled for herself. “Well. It’s not about the kidnapping. It’s… it’s about the save to be honest.” She could see his body tensing. “I guess you know the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen saved me.”

“Yes,” was all he said, no emotion in his voice or on his face.

She continued. “It was… it was terrible, Matt. I don’t know how— they took me and they… they beat me up. And _he_ came to my rescue. He knocked them out and freed me. He’s _a real hero…._ Matt, I… uhm. I was so _tired_. And everything hurt, I was out of my mind. I hugged him and he hugged me back and he kept saying he was sorry. I didn’t have enough strength to think about it at the time…”

She had to break off and steadied herself. The upcoming part was important; she gulped as she was getting to her point. She needed her voice to be strong, determined.

“Later, I realized he was apologizing because he thought it was _his fault_. That they took me. Which is completely ridiculous because it was one of the cops who assumed some pretty weird things. It definitely wasn’t the Devil’s doing. In contrary, he came for me. _Saved me_. And I wish I could meet him again.”

Her gaze flickered to Matt, making sure he was still listening to her heart-spilling. She hoped he was – his figure was created of stone, paled, rigid, hands in fists on his thighs, knuckles white. His eyes were staring on the same spot on her wall. He was barely breathing. He didn’t say a word.

”You know why? Because I never told him! I never told him it wasn’t his fault. And I think he still feels guilty. So if I met him again… I would say that to him. And if he didn’t agree— I have this… this crazy idea about his hearing being so good he can hear people’s heartbeats and he can tell when they lie and when they are being honest. He would know I mean what I am saying. I would make him tell me he’s sorry, once again. And I would tell him: _I forgive you_.”

Vera stared at him with intensity, aware he couldn’t see it.

She wasn’t even sure he was still with her or lost in his own mind. She took all her courage, pushed the table aside just a little and kneeled in front of his frozen figure, sitting back on her heels.

Matt didn’t react to her movement. If anything, his posture tensed more. She carefully touched his clenched fist, inhaling deeply. “I forgive you _,_ _Matt_. If that’s what you need to hear, if you’re seeking forgiveness... It wasn’t your fault, but if you believe it was… then _I forgive you_.”

His statue came back to life. He squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw was tight, but his lips were trembling. His throat was working. Tears slowly found their way to his cheeks. She sat up, invading his space and wiping the tears away with her better hand. Others took their place immediately. She left her hand on his face. Now, when she was closer to him, she realized his lips weren’t trembling; Matt was whispering, barely audible noise. She focused, attempting to hear him better.

Vera recognized his words. She didn’t understand the meaning, wouldn’t be able to repeat them, but she heard them before. Twice, actually. She couldn’t help herself.  “That’s it! That’s what you said in… in the dark room _and_ in the gym. What is it? What does it mean?”

His lips stopped moving, falling into silence and she regretted asking her question. He exhaled shakily, swallowed.

“It’s _Ángel de la misericordia_. Means _the angel of mercy_.” His voice was very quiet. He didn’t try to prove her theory about him being the vigilante wrong. He must have sensed she was sure.

Huh. Vera blinked in surprise and couldn’t help feeling like he was talking about _her_ mercy. She thought back about the room and she couldn’t agree with him.

“Matt, you and I, we apparently have a very different idea of mercy.” She recalled her wish _,_ her _desire_ to Matt hurting them. She was getting sick all over again. His eyes snapped open, pain in them. “I practically incited you to… to _break their bones_. There is no mercy in that.”

His hand relived under her left one. He opened his fist and hid her hand in it carefully.

“Vera, they hurt you, beat you up. You were in pain. There is no way anyone could blame you for wishing them to be scared and in pain as well.” His face was finally showing emotions - his expression darkened. “I didn’t need you to encourage me. I _wanted_ to hurt them, it wouldn’t make any difference whether you would guide me or not. You stopped me though. You… you begged me to spare the man who injured you so badly that you’re still recovering. That’s mercy.”

Vera let her hand fall down from his cheek. He caught it, following its motion with his sightless eyes.

“How?” he asked, voice suddenly weak again.

Vera knew what he wanted to hear. _How did you find out?_ She shifted in her position and then decided to snuggle on the couch next to him instead. He let her, keeping one of her hands in his.

“Uhm… it’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” he breathed.

“It… it was the little things. Similarities between you and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Body built, jaw, posture. Voice. _Gestures_. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you always do that thing with your head, the tilting – when you’re listening… I guess. Or considering something, trying to understand. Like when I… when I gave you a midnight snack. When you asked me about boxing. In the bank before I—uhm…. All the time. You’re going to the gym after hours so no one could see what you’re capable of. The Devil has a mask covering his eyes. Details. I would never make the connection though. It was in the gym when I asked you about your shoulder. You got _so_ mad. You never got mad, yet your expression was _too_ _familiar_. It started clicking together…” she stopped, because Matt’s body, slowly relaxing, tensed up again. She looked at his face and saw a mask of horror.

“Matt?” Vera called out, worried. His eyes were _dismayed_. “Matt!”

“You already knew,” was all he said, his voice sharp like razors. He was whiter than before. He tried to breathe in but he gaged. He looked like was going to be throw up.

Vera suddenly realized why he freaked out.

She hurried. “Matt, _Matt_ , it’s okay. I didn’t tell them. I swear I did _not_.” She took his face in her hands, ignoring the persistent pain in her wrist. She levelled her gaze with his. “Matt. They don’t know. You’re just _Mike_ to them. Nothing else. Your identity is safe. _I didn’t tell them_.”

Matt’s expression didn’t change. He whined, sounding like a lethally wounded animal. “ _Exactly_.”

Vera was absolutely baffled. She traced the lines of his face, searching for clues of what he was talking about. “What?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. He seemed near gaging once more. “You knew. When they _tortured_ you. And you _didn’t_ tell them.”

Oh. “Of course not. I mean…I almost did. So I had to make up a name starting with M. I had no idea I was giving away your middle name, sorry.” Vera made an attempt of a joke. He didn’t laugh.

“Jesus _Christ._ ”

They sat there, Matt’s face in her hands, processing. Then he suddenly wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in his lap, hiding her in his embrace, face burying in her hair. She yelped in surprise, the noise muffled in his chest. _Injured_ chest.

“Your ribs,” she protested, but didn’t fight with him – it would only hurt him more. Tightening his grip was the only answer she got. She was curled up in a ball in his lap, protected from the outside world and it felt good. She relaxed and carefully rested her head against his heart.

“Can you… can you really hear it?” she asked hesitantly, unsure about his temper at the moment.

“Hm,” he hummed to her hair, agreement and misery. It shouldn’t have surprise her; she knew that already. Yet, her pulse spiked at his exclaim. His lips moved in her hair and she hoped it was a beginning of a smile. “It’s… it’s very important for me. The sound of your heart.”

It made another jump and his smile widened. Vera understood. She liked the fact she could hear and feel his own when leaning into his chest. He shifted and wrapped the blanket she had tossed on the couch earlier around them. She forgot about it completely. And she didn’t realize she had goose bumps until he reached for it.

Just minutes ago, he would have acted like he hadn’t known it was there. He wasn’t hiding anymore.

“Can… can I ask something else?”

“Of course you can. You have every right, Vera.”

She thought about all the question marks popping in her head. She couldn’t choose what to start with. “What can you do… it’s incredible. I mean… you’re blind, right? Completely?” She felt his nod. “Right. Your hearing is good. Like very good, it-kinda-freaks-me-out good. What else? Is it the touch too? Oh _god_ , is it the smell?” She was appalled at the idea.

His chest vibrated with a silent laugh. “Yes. Yes it is.” She groaned, feeling her cheeks burn. “You smell like vanilla and coconut shampoo. And coffee, which is ironic since you don’t drink any. Sometimes, you smell like Fogwell’s, like the leather from the punching bags. I like it.”

Matt chuckled, and then continued. “But it’s more than that. Hearing, smell, taste, touch. Sense of balance, the air shifting when something or someone moves. Temperature changes. The sound waves refracting when touching a surface. It helps me to do… everything.”

Vera was lost in thoughts, trying to wrap her mind around it. The more questions he answered, the more she wanted to ask. “But… the pain. Does it mean the pain is worse too?”

He sighed. His heart made a small jump before he spoke and then it sped up. “No.”

 _Lie_ , Vera realized.

She gasped. “How dare you! I can feel your heartbeat right now!” she announced, outraged.

He huffed. “That’s very rude and invasive, you know. Sorry. _Yes_. It does. You’re too smart for your own good.”

Her lips formed a smug smile. “I know. But what you can do…  all the fighting? How? Someone taught you?”

He shifted slightly, his pulse doing funny things. “I… I might tell you about it one day. For now, I can tell you a blind man found me in the orphanage and somehow knew about my enhanced senses. He trained me.”

Vera felt a sting of guilt. It was a sore subject. Also, she never asked about his mother, she simply assumed they had been a complete family and she had taken care of him after his father had died. But Matt didn’t talk about _his mother_ not treating him differently after his accident. Vera should have known it was because she hadn’t there at all. An orphanage. How old was he when he started his training? How much pain did he go through? Psychical _and_ physical? And god, a _blind_ man trained him; talk about anti-ableism.

None of them spoke anymore. They just were.

Vera was relaxing more then she would admit. Matt’s embrace was comfortable, warm, the blanket covering her, Matt’s heart in her ears instead of a lullaby. She would be sleeping within moments. He placed a kiss on the top of her hear, sweet and caring. She hummed contentedly  just like the night he had saved her and felt his smile.

“Matt?” she mumbled, half asleep, “I can’t believe you brought me a balloon.”

His whole body shook with hushed laughter. “Yeah. Me neither.”

She left the real world and entered the dreamed one.

\---

Vera was woken up by a light touch on her forehead. She was no longer in Matt’s arms and she did _not_ like that. She was now lying on the mattress of her bed, him hovering over her, kissing her goodbye most likely. She swept her hand on instinct, colliding with his torso.

“What is it?” he whispered, inches from her face.

“Stay,” she mumbled sleepily, not sure he would understand her. Her lips were too heavy to form words the right way.

Matt didn’t move for few moments, the periodic movements of his chest the only indication he was alive. Then the mattress lowered and she let her hand fall down, rolling over on side to make a space for him. He lied behind her back, his arm carefully wrapping around her waist. She shifted slightly in his direction, feeling his torso. A light kiss on her temple and she was out cold again.

She woke up again about an hour later, stinging feeling in her eyes.

“Sakra.”

She disentangled from Matt’s hug and found her way to the bathroom to put her contacts away, removing make-up and brushing her teeth. She also remembered to text Terri she had gotten home safe a while ago and just forgotten to let her know.

When Vera returned to the bedroom, Matt was still asleep, face peaceful like she had never seen before. Her/his hoodie was unzipped, covering his bandaged torso – how he had managed to carry her to bed with his injury, she had no idea. She changed to her pyjama as quietly as she could. She crawled into his arms again and froze when he shifted, hoping she didn’t wake him up. She probably didn’t, because he just pulled her closer and went limp again. She smiled for herself and closed her eyes contentedly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title - Fluffiest fluff to ever fluff with a touch of angst.
> 
> In case you have time, please find a moment to appreciate Matt sleeping next to her (not with her). I like the idea and it didn’t occur to me before I read The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera, where he wonders about sleeping with (having sex) and sleeping next to someone. Sleeping next to someone is the biggest display of affection and trust, because we are most vulnerable when sleeping. (I know, I’m an idealist and hopeless romantic.) Also, _read the book_. The movie is a crap (sorry if you liked it, anyone), but the book is a _treasure_. Anika out.
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – No light, no light


	16. 13)  I will hold on (…and never let go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Forget I asked, would you? And more importantly, what I just said. Erase like the past two minutes.”  
> “Yeaaah, that’s not gonna happen. And don’t be ridiculous. I never land on my hands, I don’t do circus stuff.”  
> “Seriously? That’s the only thing that you find weird about it?”  
> “About what?”  
> “About what I just said!”  
> “And what did you just say?”

It was too hot. Vera grumbled and wanted to kick the covers off – except there were none. The heat was radiating from behind. From something warm, solid and very _human_. Now moving.

Matt. He stayed.

His arm pulled her closer, his breathing tickling on her neck.  He placed a kiss here; it tickled even more and she chuckled. She could almost _hear_ his mischievous smile, when he did it again. And again. She tried to escape his lips without success – his grip was firm. The tickling was annoying, yet she felt the warmest feeling bubbling in her chest and she laughed out loud.

“Morning,” he mumbled to her shoulder, where he buried his head after finishing his mission of kisses. His voice was husky with sleep, sending shivers down her spine – it reminded her of his vigilante voice, when being gentle with her. She smiled widely.

“Morning,” Vera replied and he raised his head, loosening his embrace, sensing she wanted to roll over to face him. She did. His face was close enough for her to see it clearly – he seemed rested. She met his _whiskey_ -coloured eyes and felt her smile widening. “Slept well?”

Matt smiled back. “Yeah.”

His breath lightly blew in her face. Scanning her memories, she remembered _all_ of his senses were enhanced. It wasn’t wise to face him in the morning. She lowered her head a little, looking at him from underneath her eyelashes. She could see him frown.  

“You okay?” he asked, unsure.

Right. Her heartbeat probably spiked. Dammit! “Yeah. It’s nothing.” And it probably did again. _Busted_.

His hand was suddenly under her chin and she had to level her face to his. His eyes were unfocused but examining her. Probing. She stopped breathing for his sake. His frown deepened. Vera fought the urge to huff; it would have the same effect as exhaling.

Vera carefully kissed the wrinkle on his forehead created by his effort to solve the puzzle. It didn’t disappear. She did huff over his head.

“Morning breath,” she admitted and waited for his reaction.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No! No. I mean… I don’t care. But you. Your senses. It has to be like hundred times wor-“ she couldn’t continue, because her lips were suddenly very busy by answering his tender kiss, which ended too soon.

“I don’t mind,” Matt whispered and pecked her on the lips again.

 _Liar._ Must have been a nightmare.

“Right,” she mumbled and rolled over to her back. His hand stopped her, catching her elbow. She turned her head back to him.

“You don’t believe me,” he exclaimed, voice wounded as much as his face.

Then his expression cleared and mischievous smile appeared instead. Vera knew her eyes went wide and her heart freaked out. He planned on doing _something_ and she might not like it.

Vera wanted to escape, but the moment she decided to make a move, he was hovering above her, knees framing her thighs, palms on the sides of her head. This was _the Devil_ she was facing. She had never stood a chance. Her heart was fighting its way out of her chest, fear mixing with excitement. She felt like a prey being cornered by a predator – she was trapped and he was watching her with hungry eyes, hypnotizing, so she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He was dangerous. Mysterious. _Hot_.

“Matt,” she squeaked and gulped as he bended down, closing the distance between them, “don’t.”

Despite what she said, every molecule in her body screamed _do_ and he knew that. Malicious, smug grin. Shifting his body,  he lowered to his elbows, stopping his lips an inch from hers, touching them when he spoke.

“Do you believe me, now?” he asked, voice low, hoarse, _devilish_.  Her body cried from the tingling his tone sent through it. She couldn’t fight the tremble. His body, his _freaking_ naked chest was now so close she couldn’t breathe. “Do you?” he whispered to her mouth again, demanding an answer.

Vera closed her eyes. She didn’t attempt to provoke him – she simply didn’t lie. “No.”

She could tell he was waiting for the jump, fastening, anything. It never came.

He _growled_ , a scary sound in the back of his throat, and he _attacked_ her. One of his hands pinned her shoulder to the mattress, the other caught her throat – too careful so it didn’t suffocate her. His mouth wedged into hers, opening it easily as she didn’t fight it. Matt sucked her lips, bit her. She let out a moan of pleasure as he did so and he repeated it multiple times. His tongue was probing her mouth and she was weakly answering his lunges, forgetting why hadn’t she wanted to do so.

Her hand shot up to his shoulders, sliding under his unzipped hoodie, tracing his skin there. His muscles danced under her touch as he was moving and she had to grasp the god’s creation. _Oh, that body_. She managed to move her hand to his pectorals, going over it, thrilling sensation on her fingertips. Matt’s hand moved from her throat sliding along her silhouette, stopping at the hem of her t-shirt, hesitating for the first time.

 _Don’t you dare to stop now_.

She nibbled at his lower lip to encourage him. He slipped under it, fingertips tracing her belly. Vera gasped into his mouth as he drew a line on the skin of her lower abdomen. She let his thigh wedge between hers.  Her body was _on fire_ and she knew there was only one way of putting it out. And the idea made her toes curl in pleasure, letting out another moan, arching her body against his. Matt gripped her hip at that sound or touch, strong enough to bruise. She loved the indication of him losing control too, of her not being the only one who was consumed by own arousal. She buried her hand into his hair, pulling him as close as possible, keeping him on place in case he changed his mind.

The growl again, mixed with whine of pure desperation. One more _attack_ , followed by _kisses_. Hand pinning her shoulder sliding to the mattress just like the one on her hip. She didn’t let go his shoulder and hair. No.

“Don’t. No. _Matthew_.”

It was her turn to make a nonhuman sound, because _WHY did he stop_?

He was panting, resting his forehead against hers, eyes shut, his face in a painful grimace. Vera was frustrated. Desperate. She didn’t _understand_. “Why? Did I… did I do anything…”

_Did I do anything wrong?_

His eyes snapped open. “You. You did everything I could possibly want,” he breathed out, sounding exhausted. Her gaze was flickering around his face, looking for any signs of a lie. She didn’t found any. She was coming to conclusion though that it wasn’t a mask of pain he wore. It was _helplessness_.

“Then what’s wrong?” 

He winced at the tone of her voice. Supporting himself on one elbow next to her head, his expression cleared, soft smile playing on his swollen red lips. He fondled her nose with hers. “You’re wonderful. You’re _gorgeous_ and you’re driving me _crazy_.” His voice was serious, emphasizing each word as if he wanted to carve them in her memory. She felt the _but_ coming. It came. “ _But_ there is someone at the door and she’s about to knock in few seconds.”

Vera froze, justified anger rising in her. “I swear I am going to murder-”

“It’s not your friend from café. She’s older… and she brought pie.” He freed Vera from under his body and landed next to her with a muffled _thud_.

Not Terri. Older. Pie. Saturday morning. _Now who that could be_.

“Doprčic, doprčic, _doprčic_.” Vera fought the tangled covers in attempt to liberate herself. She heard the knock. “Gimme the hoodie,” she hissed at Matt and he raised his head in surprise. She finally got out. “Matt!” He stripped it in one fluid motion and she really wanted to spend precious seconds, minutes, _hours_ admiring the visible part of his upper body, but she didn’t have it. And her glasses were in the bathroom on the top of that. She took it from him, put it on, not bothering to zip it, just wrapping it up around her pyjama. She sprung to the bathroom for glasses, hearing another knock.

“Coming!” she yelled at the direction of the door, finally reaching it, presentable; in a hoodie and being able to see.  She smothered her hair a little, putting on her best I-just-woke-up expression. She opened the door.

It _was_ Nina. And she looked confused, eyeing Vera’s outfit.

“Nina. Hi. I’m sorry it took so long… is that a pie?” Vera blurted out, pretending to be shocked and awed. She was a terrible, terrible actress. _Damn you, Matthew Michael Murdock and your delicate senses!_

Nina blinked and shook her head like chasing away some thought. “Yes. Yes. Are you okay?”

Vera was leaning onto door, hiding as much of her apartment as possible, because _their_ drying clothes were spread everywhere. _Matt’s_ shoes were kicked behind the door and _his_ coat was hanging at the stand just three steps from her amazing neighbour, friend and _aunt_ in one person.

“Yes. Yeah I just… I was out last night, stayed up late, some as— some driver was vengeful and the flat is a mess, cause I’m drying _my_ clothes everywhere and I literally just got out of bed, so…” she managed an actual yawn, almost forgetting to cover her mouth.

Nina’s expression changed and she gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I baked and thought you might appreciate a piece. I can handle seeing a mess, but I can see it would make you uncomfortable.” _So very, very uncomfortable._ ”So, here. Enjoy.”

 _Oh, Nina_. “You are the most saint person in Hell’s Kitchen, Nina, I swear. You’re amazing. I have to find a way to repay you for everything.”

She waved it off. “Hush. Go back to bed.” _I will._ “And don’t be a stranger.”

“Thank you. _Thank you_.”

Nina smiled at her once more, spun on her hells and left. Vera closed the door with a relieved sigh.

“She’s nice,” said a voice behind her and Vera yelped, her hand shooting to her chest. She dropped the piece of pie - luckily Matt had quick reflexes.

“Ježiši Kriste! Get yourself a bell!”

“Blasphemy. Also, where’s the fun in that?” Matt grinned innocently, standing one step from her, the pie in his hand, her sweatpants on and no top. Perfection. With bandage and scars (she would ask him about them – just not today). Still perfection.

She frowned at him and passed him to walk to the kitchen. He followed her like a dog loyal to his master, placing the pie on the kitchen counter. He boarded her with his arms as she reached for the kettle.

“Put it down, please,” he asked her in patient, polite voice.

She did. “Why?” She didn’t turn around to face him.

“Turn around.”

She did, raising her chin in a challenging gesture. “Why?”

He leaned into her and gave her a deep sweet kiss. “So I could kiss you, silly. _Do you believe me, now_?”

Vera bit her swollen lip, still feeling Matt’s hands on her body. “Yeah. I do. You can be quite persuasive when you try hard enough,” she teased and his lips touched her ear, biting the earlobe gingerly.

“Oh, you’ve seen _nothing_ yet.”

\---

They were sitting at the table, both with their finished piece of pie (which was delicious and passed even Matt’s taste test), cups of tea in their hands ( _sorry, no coffee_ ). Also, shame, Matt was now wearing the hoodie again, Vera taking her own.

“Vera, I can feel you’re staring.”

“No, you can’t,” she protested, but didn’t stop hypnotizing him.

“No. I can’t. But you want to ask something. You’re breathing changed like four times, and you’ve always swallowed it. What is it?”

 _Show-off._ “Okay. Fine. You asked for it. Did you really sleep well? Wasn’t my breathing disturbing? Is my mattress okay? The sheets? Do you mind my softener? The hoodie?” she shot all the questions that appeared in her mind, new popping shortly after asking another.

Matt laughed. “Okay, in order. Yes. No, it’s actually calming. Yes. Pretty much. No. Also, I like the hoodie, it’s very soft and I loved that it wasn’t freshly washed-up, because it smelled like you. Anything else?”

Vera felt her embarrassment colour her cheeks – of course he would notice she had worn it. There _was_ another burning question - she was too afraid to ask it, because she didn’t want to get him angry. “No. We’re good.”

He sighed. “ _Vera_.”

“You don’t have to answer. But the pain… you said it _is_ more intense. But when… the whole time…you’re acting like you ribs are okay. You _carried_ _me_ to the bed. Earlier, you came to the gym _few_ _days_ after being _shot_. And… it has to be like this all the time. You’re always getting hurt.”

He wanted to object and she realized it sounded like he was getting his ass handed to him and not the other way around. She had to correct that mistake. “I mean. Your-“ _ninja_ “-fighting skills are obviously superior, but they have knives. Baseball bats. _Guns_.” She shivered at the memory of the gun at her head.

Matt seemed thoughtful. Her best guess was he wondered what he _could (wanted to)_ tell her and how he would explain something she could barely imagine. “Hm. I meditate,” was all he said at the end.

“You meditate,” she parroted sceptically.

He seemed offended by her scepticism. “Yes. It takes years of training. To do it right. But it _does_ help me to heal. To reduce the pain too. It’s my mind what controls my body.”

Oh. That was unexpected. Vera tried to imagine being able to control her body on such level it would handle such an unbearable pain as _cracked ribs_ (she would know) or a gunshot wound (she had no idea and had no desire to know). It was impossible.

“That’s… a) awfully depressing, because your mind gets literally no rest and b) unimaginable. It’s… wow. Huh.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You believe me,” he sounded surprised.

Vera shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you’re a blind guy – no offence – who can knock out a bad guy with hitting him in the head with precisely aimed stick from an immeasurable distance, you can probably do like quadruple flip or triple somersault and land on your hand, you can smell pie through walls - during a make-out session no less, which is kinda rude by the way, because it’s polite to pay attention to the person you’re lying on the top of –, you can hear people’s heartbeats, you know when they want to speak and most likely you hear people talking a block, no, five blocks away. Maybe you can even tell where this tea was produced, packed _and_ bought. Somehow, you can tell person’s injuries without looking at him, touching it or using an x-ray or MRI. So yeah, if you use meditation to _turn off your pain_ or whatever, it actually doesn’t surprise me. Like at all,” she finished and was shocked by her outburst. She covered her mouth with her hand when she ran over all she said.

Matt was staring at her. There was no better way to describe it. He was _glaring_ at her, face giving away his own astonishment. He opened and closed his mouth few times without sound going out. “Oh.”

Yeah. _Oh_. “Forget I asked, would you? And more importantly, forget what I just said. Erase like the past two minutes.”

“Yeaaah, that’s not gonna happen. And don’t be ridiculous. I never land on my hand, I don’t do circus stuff.” He honestly made a come-on-don’t-be-stupid grimace. And that was _all_ he denied.

Vera shot him an incredulous look. “Seriously? That’s the only thing that you find weird about it?”

“About what?” he asked, looking absolutely baffled.

“About what I just said!”

“And what did you just say?” His expression was pure innocence and confusion. He was giving the impression of a child being chewed for something he didn’t even know about.

What she just— she gaped at him. That _motherf-_

“You— you-.” She scanned her surroundings for something she could fling at him, at this incredible _agitator_ , _teaser_ , who _irritated_ her- “I can’t _believe_ you!”

Vera couldn’t find anything better. She grabbed the spoon she ate the pie with and lashed it, aiming at his face. He caught it, _of course_.

“Did you just try to kill me with a tea spoon?”

“Yes!”

“You threw something on a poor blind guy!” He was gaping at her, scandalized.

“Houby! On a _freaking blind ninja_ ,” she muttered under breath and he burst out laughing, throwing his head back.

“That what you think I am?” Matt was laughing with his whole body, tears appearing in his eyes.

“I hate you.” He didn’t stop. “No, I’m serious. I hate you _so much_ right now,” she grumbled, tidying up after their _brunch_ since it was around ten a.m. His hand caught her forearm.

“Come here.” His body was still shaking, but he was trying to stop. _Mind controls the body, yeah, I can see that._ _Liar._ Vera didn’t resist when he gently pulled her in his lap and placed a kiss on her temple. “It’s too bad you hate me, you know. Because I can’t seem to keep my hands off you. You’re stuck with me.”

Her heart fluttered at his words and she was no longer pouting her lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good. I’ll intend to keep it.” They sat in silence for a moment. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare toothbrush, would you?”

\---

Matt used the shower first, leaving around half past ten. His shoes were still wet since Vera forgot to dry them, but he didn’t complain. He kissed her goodbye and waited for the right moment to walk out of the door so no one would see him. He claimed he had to protect her honour (especially since nothing had happened last night, at least anything what people would assume it had). Vera thought it was sweet.

She took a shower too, washing her hair. She had an afternoon shift at MDDC, so she got ready, ate light lunch, cleaned up and went to work. Terri texted her earlier that she didn’t even expected a text, so that was okay. But she wanted details. Vera was glad she had an excuse – her shift –, so she was safe for now. It was clear she wouldn’t escape an interrogation later though.

Work was fun. Lyla and Michelle were in, chatting about anything that came to their mind and there were no crowds, because _Saturday_. Vera was on the cloud number nine whole day, drawing smiley faces on cups to go, people giving her extra tips – truth to be told, she probably never made coffee with such enthusiasm like that day. She was smitten. She was in _love_.

\---

Terri called her in the evening, right after Vera announced her home arrival, her impatience palpable.

“How was it?” she blurted to the phone instead of a greeting. Vera would smile, but her lips were involuntary smiling whole day and hadn’t stopped just yet.

“Perfect _. Fucking_ perfect,” was all she said.

“Huh. Okay. Care to elaborate?”

“I can _try_ ,” she teased her, smile growing wider at the idea of her friend’s expression.

“So?” Terri encouraged her and Vera could practically see her gesturing, _go on_.

“So what?”

“Stop the Pink references and tell me everything!”

Vera was high. She had to be. She gave her friend a maniac laugh. “I will. _Just give me a reason_.”

“Oh BLOW ME, Vera!” she yelled at her through the speaker and Vera burst out again. It was _hilarious_.

“Seriously? _Blow me_? _One last kiss_?”

“Oh my _god_ … you know what? Be like this. I’ll hire spies and they will follow your every move so I don’t have to deal with this.”

Vera sighed. “I don’t know what you want to hear.” She ignored the _everything_ her friend murmured. “It was a dinner. He picked me up, we went to a nice mexican restaurant, because I mentioned I never had mexican before, we had a good time and he walked me home in a rain…”

“Aaaand?”

“And he was absolutely sweet, real gentleman. Except he refused to sing in the rain,” she tried to get her friend off track. There was _no way_ Vera would tell her she invited him upstairs, they only _talked_ and he stayed the night without Terri thinking she’s full of it and keeping details for herself.

Terri chuckled. “I can’t imagine why. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Sang in the rain?” she asked as if Vera was stupid. 1:0 for Vera’s distractions skills.

“No, I did _not_. He would run away and people would think I am actually crying for help.”

“Yeaaah. And your other boyfriend would show up to save you.”

Vera frowned, the smile leaving her face for the first time that day. She couldn’t shake off the feeling Terri was talking about Matt. Well, _Mike_. “What other boyfriend?”

“Huh. You have more than one other boyfriend? You really are _a slay dog_ , my dear,” she exclaimed, mocking her. “The Devil. He’s practically your boyfriend.”

“He’s _not_.” Except he kinda was, but Terri didn’t know that.

Terri huffed, annoyed. “Sometimes I forget how oblivious you are. Vera, he saved you, _three times_. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

Oh yeah, _she knew_. “Yeah. I mean, he’s a hero and I’m a trouble magnet. That doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend. I’m just a damsel in distress. Barely a damsel. Saving people is what he does.”

“Three times, Vera. _Three times_. I’m telling you, he has a crush on you. Like _Czechia-sized_ crush.”

“The fact you looked up the size of my homeland warms my heart,” Vera proclaimed sarcastically, thinking of how to find a way out of this mess.

“Sure. It’s pathetic, by the way. And deny it however you want, it doesn’t change the facts. Also, you are a fucking liar who lies, because there is something important you didn’t tell me about your date last night and I will squeeze you once we have a shift together. For now, I have to settle with squeezing Victor. Have a great night, Mechy.” And she hung up.

Vera was sitting at her bed with a deaf phone on her ear for several minutes.

 _What just happened?_ She was _so_ in trouble.  Too bad she was only going to deal with it later. Today, she was in heaven.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocabulary:  
> Doprčič. – Dammit.  
> Houby. – Bullshit. (but an alternative version, harmless ;) Something like… _Oh, please_ … (it actually means mushrooms, it’s close to our translation of Shit))
> 
> The size of Czechia is 78 866 km² with population about 10 500 000. (Stop laughing, would you?)
> 
> Alternative chapter title – fluffiest fluff to ever fluff no.2. (see, that's the problem :D )
> 
> Also, important intermezzo coming right up.
> 
> Title from Rhodes – Close your eyes


	17. (‘Cause it’s burning ) In the bloodline       (Terri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s wrong?”  
> “Everything? I have no idea who you are, but I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Soooo many, maaany F-words. Also, do not try that at home.

Terri had an excellent weekend. She took both days off, because Victor had promised her a trip. He didn’t mention they would have to hitch-hike their ride after leaving Manhattan, but hey, at least she couldn’t complain about a lack of adventure. Their driver was a seventy-year old fella whose driving licence probably wasn’t valid anymore, yet he drove them safely almost to their desired destination and they walked the rest of their journey on foot.

They spent most of Saturday in the biggest jungle gym on east coast and stayed overnight in a scary motel that had like two other guests. It was _amazing_. She managed to call Vera to ask about her date when Victor called dibs on the bathroom and she came to conclusion it went well. She had no time for interrogation.

On Sunday, they stayed in bed ( _don’t judge_ ) and took off around lunchtime, after eating an approximation of pizza. They caught a ride and got home, exhausted and happy. Terri came to her apartment she had inherited after her grandma, managed a shower and fell to bed, remembering her morning shift on Monday.

And Monday wasn’t a _bad_ day. Sure, Terri had to get up at ass-o’clock, but there was no Olivia or Barbara on her shift (no Vera either, sadly, and she didn’t have the afternoon one either, shame), so she managed. There were no annoying people behind the counter with her, the familiar scent of coffee surrounding her, people let her keep the change and everything was _fine_. She planned a late lunch with Victor (well _brunch_ , for Victor anyway) and then she would go home. The only missing thing would be Matthew I-will-keep-her-save Murdock stopping by the café so she could give him a shovel talk.

Her shift ended, she had a lunch with Victor who apparently needed to go for a run later that afternoon, so they said their goodbyes (most of it French). She went home, no _raindrops falling on her head_ (and it was _totally_ Vera’s fault Terri thought about that because that had been her talking about singing in the rain), wondering about her program for the rest of the day. She wasn’t planning on running, that was for sure.

Terri decided to experiment with baking since Victor turned out to be a pastry freak. (He would be running and worshipping bodybuilding as a righteous bouncer, but when she had offered him a muffin, he cracked… and ate three). It didn’t go well.

The first attempt went to hell because she was too lazy to go for the right kind of flour – the pie was… something. She didn’t give up though and went to closest shop to correct her mistake. On her third attempt, the pie was actually presentable and it didn’t taste bad either. When she looked around her kitchen and saw the terrible mess she had made just because she wanted to try baking _for Victor_ , she realized she probably loved him. Well, shit.

She was cleaning up whole evening, washing the dishes and counters and carried out the garbage (including two caricatures of pies).

And that was the exact moment her not-a-bad-day went to _absolute shit_.

Terri threw her mess in the dumpster in the alley closest to her flat and wanted to head home when _something_ caught her attention. And that something looked awfully like a _leg_.

“Holy shit!” she squeaked and spun on her heels to run back to her apartment as fast as she could and call the cops, because there was a _fucking corpse_ next to a dumpster and she was _not_ about to examine it. Not her division.

Except she heard a rustle and a _groan_. A groan indicating that it was _alive_. Her pulse was hammering in her ears as she slowly turned back, her mind screaming to get the hell out of there. She rarely listened to her mind. The leg actually bent in its knee as she came closer.

Terri peeked behind the dumpster and froze. There was a crumpled figure lying among the black garbage bags. He was barely visible, merging with the bags, because he was dressed in black – black top, black gloves, black trousers, black boots and a freaking black mask covering the upper half of his face. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was lying practically lifeless between dumpsters in a dark alley and _Terri_ just found him.

“Shit.”

His figure froze as well. Then he started his poor attempts to stand up again with more determination then before. He seemed to have something with his ankle, because every single time he leaned his weight on it, he fell to the ground again with a hiss.

Terri, the crazy person she was, wanted to help him; after all, he had saved her friend few times. She took a step closer and his hand shot to his leg holster with his sticks.

“Hey! Hey, big guy! Not an enemy!” she yelped, showing her bare hands, armed only with her keys.

The Devil collapsed to the ground with a painful whine. He hadn’t say a word and truth to be told, he looked kinda like he was ready to pass out any minute. She was at his side immediately. His undershirt or whatever had several darker stains on it. It seemed to be wet. It might be _blood_. Terri prayed she was wrong.

His hand reached for his pocket, now trembling from weakness.

“Hey! Dammit, tell me how can I help you.”

His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. “Call.” And then his figure limped. He was out cold.

“Fuck.” Terri placed a hand in front of his mouth, relieved she found out he was breathing. For now. Where was Vera who would know what to do with an unconscious person when Terri needed her? Dammit!

Okay. Call. She had a hunch he wasn’t talking about calling 911. She shoved her hand in his pocket and found a phone. Well, _phone_.

“What the hell? Is vigilantism really that bad you can’t afford something else than this dinosaur?” she asked the unmoving man incredulously.

Okay. There were three people programed in the phone. C. F. V. She tried the first one.

Two seconds of the dialling tone and then a pointed female voice. “What’s wrong?”

Terri almost chuckled in relief. It seemed she had called the right number. “Everything? I have no idea who you are, but I need your help.”

“Who the hell is this?”

Good question. “Theresa. Not important. Considering you’re on Devil’s speed-dial, I have to believe you’re one of the good guys, because I found him next to a dumpster and he seems to be bleeding… out. Like to death. He’s out cold. Breathing though.” Terri was proud of herself. She told her all the important information.

“Fuck.” That woman was _her spirit animal_. “Where are you?”

“50th St., close to the corner of 11th Av.”

“Great. That’s just great. Stay with him. Put the pressure on the wound.” She could hear rustling and cursing.

“That might be a problem,” she murmured as she examined the multiple growing stains.

“Why?”

“There are lots of them,” she whimpered.

“Of course they are. Just try. I am on my way.”

It was the longest 8 minutes in Terri’s life and that included the birds and bees talk from her dad. The unmoving figure didn’t relive under her hands – which were now crimson with his _blood_. She spent most of the time hyperventilating and thinking about pies, trying to remember all the ingredients to distract herself.

She would be tempted to put his mask away, but it felt like a dick move. She liked the idea of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen being mysterious. Extraordinary man if he even was a man. Not real. Except he was _very real_ and he was _bleeding out_  like an ordinary man would after being almost _shred to pieces_. Terri fought the wave of nausea. She wanted to call someone else from his phone but it was dead. Great. She hoped his owner wouldn’t follow its example.

When she heard hurried footsteps, she jerked to stand up, grabbing one of his sticks, ready to protect herself.  A woman approached her with her hands raised in a no-harm gesture. She looked vaguely familiar.

“Hey. Theresa I presume? I’m Claire. Alias C, I guess,” she said factually and eyed the unconscious figure, pulling out a pair of gloves. “Oh, dammit.” She fell on her knees by his side, shaking his shoulders lightly with no reaction. “Mike!”

Nothing. She lifted his soaked top.

And _oh my god_ that was a lot of blood and _lots_ of cuts. Or stabs. It was hard to tell, because the blood was all over it.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Terri breathed out and her head started to spin.

“Hey. Hey! Theresa, I need your help now. Focus. I have a borrowed car on the street. I need you to help me get him in, okay?” Her voice was pleading, but authoritative.

 _Breathe, Theresa, breathe._ “Okay. Fine. It’s Terri, by the way.”

\---  
She had no idea how they managed to drag him to the car. He was _fucking heavy_. Was that all muscle or what? Because she was pretty sure it was not _fat_. They shoved him in, Claire drove them (while instructing Terri to keep the pressure on the worse injuries and checking on his breathing) and they stopped next to an apartment building, in an alley again.

There was a Hispanic boy waiting for them. F? V? He helped Claire to carry him to the fourth floor and tossed him on a couch. Somehow, Terri suspected it wasn’t the first time this happened.

Santino, the boy, was sent away, while Claire got to work and started to stich him up, Terri still keeping the pressure where needed. Somewhere along the way, Claire rubbed his sternum with her knuckles. Terri almost had a heart attack when he jolted awake. Well, regained consciousness anyway.

“What- _ahhh_ ,” he let out a sound that only could mean agony.

“Yeah. What else is new… I need you to tell me your blood type,” Claire told him in calm, demanding voice.

“What?” he breathed out the question the very same time Terri did.

Claire was unimpressed. “You’re losing too much blood. The bullet wound you had last time? Scratch compared to this. You need a transfusion. Or hospital. So. Blood type. Now.”

“A **-**.”

“Fuck,” she hissed, unhappy about his answer, “I’m B+.”

Terri was shocked. “You wanted to give him your blood? What the hell?!” she blurted out, wondering when she was going to wake up from this creepy nightmare. “Oh and I’m A+ in case you’re wondering.”

“Shit, _shit_. Mike!” Claire shook his immobile figure. He whined again. “What about F?”

“B+.”

“You gotta be kidding me! Why can’t you have friends with-” she paused for long seconds. “What about her?” she asked then and the Devil become alive under her hands.

“No idea. Doesn’t matter,” his voice was surprisingly strong given his previous status.

“I don’t have time for this. Gimme his phone,” she barked at Terri and she startled.

“Dead.”

“Of _fucking_ course. Mike, gimme her number and don’t pretend you don’t know it from memory.”

Terri watched in awe as the barely breathing man clenched his jaw. “No.”

Who the hell were they talking about? Who was _her_? The Devil either _hated_ her or _cared_ about her _big time_. Or maybe both.

“Gimme her number you stubborn bastard! Or I am taking you to hospital and I am not giving shit about your secret identity!”

His bloody chest was rising hastily with shallow and no doubt painful breaths. The visible part of his face (and really, maybe they should put the mask off for his own sake) was now resigned. “Okay. Okay. But you’ll-“

“ _Number_ ,” the woman growled at him. She was adamant. Intimidating. Terri wouldn’t want to have a disagreement with her.

With a gulp he told her the first three numbers and he seemed to be fading out.

“Hey! Mike!”

Other two digits. Then… next one. He was out cold.

Claire threw her hands in the air. “Fucking vigilantes! I’m calling 911.”

Terri’s head was spinning. A dying vigilante was lying under her hands – still sticky with his _blood –_ , there was a freaked out _nurse_ who was reaching for her phone and Terri was thinking about the unthinkable. Her mind was racing, digits echoing in her head, C, F and V flickering in front of her eyes, _Gimme **her** number you stubborn bastard_ , _NO_ , the **_V_** _,_ the _numbers_ , 9-1-1. 9-1-1... _9-9-1._

 “Holy shit.” Terri tasted bile in her mouth and felt she was going to pass out too. Or throw up. Or both.  “ _Holy shit_!”

“What?”

Impossible. _Unthinkable_. It couldn’t be Vera. It could _not_. But the number he was saying. The _V_.

“It’s Vera, isn’t it. You’re talking about Vera.”

Claire dropped the phone and glared at her in disbelief. “What— how-- the hell? You-?”

Terri was going to _kill_ Vera for giving him her number.

No, scratch that, she was going to kill _him_ , because he has Vera’s number in his freaking bat-phone. That bastard. That fucking bastard. What if some bad guy got his hands on the phone? What then? She was going to suffocate him in his sleep if he survived this.

“The last three digits, it’s 9-9-1. Yes I hate the idea of calling her. Now give me your phone.”

Claire handed her the phone without protests. Terri called her friend’s number - she picked up after thirty seconds.

“Macháčková,” announced the voice on the other end of a line.

“Vera? It’s Terri.”

“Terri? What— do you have a new phone? Did something happen? Are you okay?” she blurted out the questions, sounding worried.

“What’s your blood type?”

“What?!” Vera was absolutely baffled, voice with a hint of a laugh. She had no idea why would Terri ask her that. Terri couldn’t blame her. But she needed the answer and she needed it _fast_.

“Your blood type. Now. I’m deadly serious.”

“Uhm… A-?”

Terri wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or horrified.

Well, she _was horrified_. But Vera would never forgive her if she let her personal guard dog (read stalker) die and didn’t tell her she could have helped him. Also, it would be Terri’s fault someone died. And not just some random person, but the freaking ninja in black running around saving lives. Fuck.

“Good. Cause I found your boyfriend and he’s kinda missing few pints of his own A-.”

“ _WHAT THE HELL_ are you talking about?! What – what happened to Matt? Doesn’t the hospital-” her shocked voice yelled through the speaker, scared to death.

Right. Lame choice of words. “Sorry. Not Matt. Your other boyfriend. You know, the one who is running around in black pyjama with two sticks as his deadly weapons.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from her friend. “Where are you?”

“Uhm. Claire’s? Apparently she is his personal nurse or something. I’ll text you an address.”

“Thanks. And Terri? He’s not my other boyfriend.” Vera hung up and Terri stared at the phone, clueless.

 _Yeah, he just knows your number and you’re rushing to save him with no further questions. Not your other boyfriend MY ASS._ She gave Claire, who was sewing up again, back her phone so she could text Vera the address.

“You’re friends?”

Terri was suddenly taken over by exhaustion. “Yeah. I like to think we are.” The bitter tone of her voice was justified, she thought.

There was nothing she could do to help Claire anymore. The nurse stitched up two very ugly stab wounds and about ten _minor_ cuts. The Devil’s skin, or what was visible from it, was scarily pale. Terri wanted to be pissed at him, she really did. But when he was lying on the couch, bloody, with his chest barely rising and falling in a pace too slow, she couldn’t.

Claire finished her work and started pulling  out different tubes and needles from her bag. Terri gulped when she saw them. One of them was going to be in her friend soon and they were huge.

“Hey, why don’t you pick up Vera? Someone needs to open the door for her,” Claire offered with small smile and Terri didn’t hesitate to escape the horror room. When she went downstairs, she already saw Vera _sprinting_ down the street to her door, undone coat and sweatpants.

“Hey!” she wheezed, out of breath and Terri had no idea what to say. So she remained silent and let her in. Her friend continued her pace, taking two stairs at time. It was hard to believe she could have barely moved not so long time ago. Terri quickened her pace too.

“Here,” Terri finally spoke when they reached the fourth floor.

“Oh. Good.”

Claire was waiting for them. She sighed. “Hey, Vera. Thanks, Terri.”

Vera scanned the room before she found the couch and his occupant. She hissed something Terri didn’t understand, probably cursing in her mother tongue.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked Claire, voice on verge of desperation. Terri wasn’t even surprised anymore.

“Sit in the armchair. What was the last time you ate and what was it?” _Claire is a professional…she knows what she’s doing…_

Vera looked almost guilty as she sat on the chair. “Flapjack.” She eyed the clock. “About two and half hour ago.” Her breathing was still fast, face red. Where the hell did she run from?

“Dammit. Did you drink enough?”

“I guess.” _Don’t guess, dammit!_

“Okay. I’ll give you some juice. Any physical activity apart from the running now?” Claire was asking her questions, methodical calm voice as she reached the kitchen and came back with carton of juice. _It wasn’t the first time she did that_. Terri wanted her heart to slow down its crazy tempo, but she was out of her mind. She was only an audience to the scene in front of her.

Vera bit her lip. “I did a little fit-boxing? I was taking it easy though.”

“Damn you, woman. You’re gonna pass out… drink your juice.”

Vera obeyed. She grimaced at the sour taste of orange. She made a pause and rolled up her right sleeve. When Claire looked at her, confused, she spoke up. “Better vessels in my right arm.”

Claire just nodded, satisfied, while preparing her… whatever. She fished out a little piece of paper with two coloured liquids too. Terri finally closed the door properly and sat in the other armchair.

Vera smiled at her. “So you met the famous Devil too now.”

Terri huffed. “Yeah. I kinda wish I didn’t,” she admitted, eyeing the man with a mix of displeasure and sadness. He _had_ saved Vera. He _had not_ want to call her first. Almost as if he _cared_ for her. He wouldn’t deserve to die and Vera was able to help him. She _wanted_ to help him.

“Yeah, I feel you. It’s never sunshine and rainbows with the Devil.”

“Ever donated blood before?” Claire interrupted their small talk and Vera hesitated as the nurse approached her with the needle and tube.

“Yeah. Kinda.”

Claire frowned at her. “What does _that_ mean?”

Vera apparenty really, really didn’t want to answer that question. Her gaze flickered between Terri, Claire and the half-dead man in the mask. “Uhm. The first time the flow was too slow...” Claire waited for the rest of the sentence. “…and the second time I passed out after like 200 millilitres so they stopped.”

Claire sighed, put the needle aside and made her way to her phone. “And it didn’t occur to you to mention that earlier? Shit. We need to get him to the-“

Vera stood up, catching Claire’s elbow. That sudden movement startled Terri, finally snapping her from the apathy.

“Claire, it doesn’t matter. If I pass out, I pass out.”

“You can’t be serious!” Terri yelled, standing up too. Claire was indecisive. Terri could tell. “You can’t seriously support her in this!”

“Claire! He _dies_ if we don’t!” Vera protested, voice strong, persuasive. She took another gulp of the juice. “Or you take him to the hospital and everyone will find out, which he would probably think is even worse. _Do it_.”

“…fuck this. He’s so going to kill me when he finds out.” The nurse was actually getting the thingies ready again.

Terri wanted to protest, but Vera was faster. “If we don’t, he will be _too dead_ to care. There’s no choice to make.” There was something solemn in her words. Claire put the needle in her cubita. Terri looked away.

“You know you don’t owe him anything, right?” Terri whispered, her head turned in other direction. She did _not_. She was _fucking_ crazy. Claire moved to the vigilante, rolling up his sleeve too, injecting him. Most likely. Terri didn’t want to see that either.  She already saw too much tonight. When exactly went her day to shit?

“Alright, madwoman. Try to clench your fist repeatedly. Keep talking,” Claire instructed her.

“Okay. Claire, if I pass out and he still needs more, don’t stop.”

Claire shot her a stern look. “I am the nurse here.”

“Yeah and I’m one third of a doctor determined as hell.”  This was _so_ wrong. Vera never pulled out the med card. Claire sighed.

“Terri?” her friend called out, _sad_. Terri couldn’t stand it. She looked at her, surprised it wasn’t too scary. When ignoring the tube, Vera seemed almost normal. “Wanna know something?”

Terri gulped. Vera was appealing to her _emotions_. It was so unfair. “Of course. You know me. I always want to know everything.” She managed an unsure smile.

Vera grinned. “I know. I think Foggy knows I am his pen pal. He came on Friday to the café. Kept watching me and Barbara – ‘cause he doesn’t know the two of us yet, most likely – and couldn’t decide between us. I added the sticker on Matt’s cup and wrote YAY on his. He hadn’t notice.” She paused and took a deep breath. Terri noticed she paled a little. “He looked at them once he was outside.” Another pause. Terri’s gaze flickered to Vera’s hand. It was blue-ish and barely clenching. It made her sick. She watched her friend’s face instead. Vera grimaced with effort. “Was hilarious… his face… should have…have……s-n…….hs…” Her eyelids closed and Terri hurried to her side, terrified.

“Claire!”

The nurse was at _his_ side, watching _his_ breathing, taking _his_ pulse. She glanced at Terri and shook her head. “I can’t interrupt it now. It would be a waste.” Her voice was tense. “Control her breathing. It should be pretty fast now. If it gets slower, you tell me. Immediately.”

Terri didn’t need to be told twice. She definitely cared more for Vera than for the stranger, no matter how many times he had saved her friend. She cautiously observed Vera’s chest moving, hand in front of her mouth to feel her exhales. They were indeed more frequent.

Vera was really pale. Like sheet-of-white-paper pale. The image of whitish latte foam popped in Terri’s head and she chased it away. She did not want to associate coffee with this. Huh. Too late. Vera’s breathing fastened even more. Her hand wasn’t bluish. It was plain blue. Or violet. It was not a good colour and it frightened Terri.

_Claaaaaire!_

“Come on, Mike! Fight a little! You’re good at that. Mostly...”

Vera’s breathing hitched and Terri yelped. “Claire!” It returned to its quick pace, but that was it. This ended _now_. Claire took the man’s pulse again.

“He would need more, but he’ll make it. He’s stubborn. Come here,” Claire ordered and Terri reluctantly left her friend’s side. Claire pulled out the cannula from his cubita. “Pressure, here. I’ll do the same for her and check her up, okay? You did great.” _Vera_ did great.

Terri decided she _hated_ the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen from the bottom of her heart. Yet, she realized she could act like it later. Now, she had to support her friend in her effort to keep him alive. He wasn’t the only stubborn person in the room – Vera was a cutthroat competition in this area.

Terri kept the pressure on his cold skin, watching Vera instead. Claire held her elbow and her wrist for her pulse. She was nodding, so Terri took it as a good sign.

“I take it back. They are both stubborn bastards,” she said, hint of a smile on her lips.

Terri couldn’t agree more.

\---

Terri thought that waiting for Claire in the dark alley with a bleeding vigilante accompanying her was the longest moment in her life. She was wrong. Waiting at Vera’s side until she would wake up was worse. And it objectively took longer.

They moved Vera to Claire’s bed, because it was apparently better for her brain. Terri wouldn’t know, so she didn’t object. The masked man stayed on the couch, Claire waiting by his side and cleaning up – not before she removed Vera’s contacts into a case she found in her backpack, preventing a problem that didn’t occur to Terri at all. That woman really _was_ a professional and she thought about _everything_. And she somehow managed the idea of an improvised blood transfusion at home turn into reality. She was a _freaking miracle_.

Claire had offered her to go home, thanking for her help, claiming she would check up on both of them since she wouldn’t get any sleep that night anyway, but Terri wanted to stay. She wanted to be with Vera when she would wake up and chew the vigilante for endangering her that night and any night really since he had her phone number programmed in his burner phone. So she washed her hands, finally removing the blood and received some clean non-bloody clothes from Claire, who also made her coffee. And then tea. And brought her cookies, because screw healthy lifestyle for tonight.

They kept the door between the living room and the bedroom open, making a small talk from time to time. Terri learned that Vera had met Claire when being on ER after the kidnapping and Claire had met the vigilante when bleeding in her dumpster. If she wasn’t so tired, Terri would actually laugh. In return, Claire learned that Terri was Vera’s friend and colleague and she had never met the man face to face before – she wouldn’t mind if she never met him again. Claire apparently hated cats and had a weird distaste for taxis and baseball – Terri didn’t even want to know, feeling those two things were related. Terri was more of a dog person herself, but had never had her own. They talked about anything that kept them awake.

And of course, it was fucking _him_ who woke up first. Terri was determined to leave her friend’s side for this one when she heard his gasp and Claire’s voice talking to him.

“Hey, Mike. Welcome back to the land of living,” Claire greeted him and Terri made her way to the door.

He wasn’t moving much. She could see him tilt his head while still in his lying position, as if he was trying to figure something out. Did he even remember what happened?

“Hey, Claire,” he pursed his lips, “…and you,” he said in Terri’s direction, reaching for his mask subconsciously. 

Oh, so he _could talk_. Good. She took it as an invitation and sat in the other armchair. For the first time, she noticed his foot was elevated and bandaged – Claire must have taken care of his ankle too. It was _so unfair_ how well-treated he was. She felt the anger rising in her chest.

“Do you remember what happened?” Claire asked him cautiously.

He made a face – well, a half face. “Before or after I had an encounter with not-so-friendly gang with interest in knives? Not sure.”

Oh, he was practically joking. Wasn’t that _wonderful_? Terri would be delighted to fill in the blanks. “I found you in the garbage. You managed to ask me to call… _someone_ , before you passed out. Claire was the lucky girl.”

He sighed. “Yeah. She always is. Thank you…”

“…Terri. Doesn’t really matter. And believe me, once I’m done with you, you wish you wouldn’t know me,” her voice was pissed, she knew that. She could feel her anger crawling out, waiting to be released.

His body tensed. He didn’t understand what her words meant, but he sensed her displeasure. Claire glared at her, eyes begging her to shut up. _Oh, not gonna happen_. Claire spoke up first. “What Terri is trying to say, is that you were pretty bad. Needed a transfusion. Do you recall?”

He shook his head lightly. Of _fucking_ course. ”Oh. Funny story. None of your friends or me have your blood type. Your phone died.  But you managed to tell us a fragment of a phone number before passing out again,” Terri hinted him, waiting for his memories to come back. She could almost hear his brain working.

“I… did?” he asked hesitantly, probably frowning. _Fuck his mask_. She wanted to yell at him, _face to face._

Claire inhaled sharply; Terri was faster. “Oh, you did. And I knew the rest of it, put it together after seeing a _fucking V_ in your phone. Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND, HAVING HER NUMBER IN YOUR PHONE?!” she finally let out her rage in a loud voice as she stood up, making her way to him. It felt good. She was mad. She was scared for her friend. She was pissed at him and she wanted him to know.

His breathing changed. It was more like a frantic gasping now. He tried to sit up. Claire hissed at him to stay down, hand on his chest. He groaned. “I’m-”

But Terri wasn’t the one listening now. Standing by his torso since Claire was sitting by his head, she continued.

“You listen to me, very carefully. You _fucking_ delete her phone number. That’s one thing. Then you apologize to her for getting her into this mess. She probably thinks she owes you something, which she totally doesn’t. She ran in here and didn’t hesitate to share a _fucking two pints of blood_ , maybe more, begging Claire not to stop in case she passes out - which she _did_. So, that’s two. And third thing – you give her your _best_ _gratitude_ for saving _your miserable life_.”  Terri was panting too, but _god_ , that felt _awesome_.

During her speech, he paled even more if possible. His mouth hung open, but then he set his jaw so tight he might break it. He started his attempts to get up as if his life depended on it, Claire’s hand on him or not.

“I need to see her,” he growled at Claire and sounded… hurt. Frightened. _Desperate_.

Terri, getting the wrath of her chest, observed him in awe. Remembering his protests before they called her. He didn’t just care about her big time. He _loved_ her. She had to blink furiously at her sudden realization. And watched the disaster in front of her.

“Lay down, you _stubborn shit_! You’ll rip your stitches.” Claire was trying to keep him down, while avoiding his stab wounds and shooting Terri hateful looks. “You don’t need to see her! Use your ears! Listen! LISTEN, DAMMIT!”

Terri wasn’t sure what that meant, but he stopped fidgeting. He slowly relaxed, leaning back onto the couch. She hadn’t notice him clenching his fists – she saw him losing the grip now though. His jaw was still tight, lips in an unhappy grimace. “Okay. Okay, but…”

“No ‘but’. Did you rip any stitch?” Claire demanded in an authoritative voice. He shook his head. “Good. Now, do you respect her?”

Terri sat back in the armchair heavily, once more being only an audience. The Devil tilted his head again.

“Do you?” Claire repeated her question and he nodded tentatively, out of breath due to his earlier struggling. “I thought so. Then you need to realize what that word means. You respect _her_ , you _respect her choices_. When she wakes up, you’ll thank her. No reproaches. Vera chose to help you despite the risks. Her life wasn’t in danger… and even if it was-” He whined. Honest to god whined like a wounded animal. The sound made Terri want to cover her ears. Or cry in compassion. “And even if it was, it would still be her choice. Not yours. _Hers._ ”

Terri felt her rage boiling again. How could she even say that? Endangering Vera’s own life for him? From her own will? It made sense of course, yet it was a _fucking nonsense_.

“That’s not right,” he protested, shaking his head furiously, “it shouldn’t be like this.” Terri looked at him with a newfound alliance. _One point for him_. _A tiny one._

“But it is.” A weak voice coming from the bedroom door joined their conversation. Three heads snapped in its direction. Vera gave a little wave. “Hey, guys. I’m awake.”

“ _Vera_.”

“Hey, Madwoman.”

“VERA!” Terri burst out and crossed the room to hug her friend. Vera’s hand shot up (more like slowly elevated) to her head and she made a face.

“Uh, not so loud,” she mumbled as Terri squeezed her in her arms. She laughed quietly. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so fine a blind man could see it. Good to see you awake,” Terri whispered and _nope_ , she was not crying. Her eyes just watered, because they were tired from the constant looking around. It was late. Like three-or-four-in-the-morning late. Shit, she was a wreck.

Vera laughed again, carefully hugging her back. They let go.

“You should sit down at least, Vera. Low blood pressure. Your brain would appreciate it,” Claire spoke from her spot and she stood up. “Since you’re both awake, I’ll make some very, very sweet tea for you and coffee for us.”

Vera smiled at her gratefully. “You’re an angel, Claire. Thanks for removing the contacts, by the way. It would be…unpleasant. Any chance my glasses are still in my backpack?” She made her way for it, but stumbled. She steadied herself reaching for Claire’s armchair. They gave her worried looks. She smiled innocently. “Anyone would be so kind?”

Terri rolled her eyes and fished out the case and handed it to her. Vera seated herself by the vigilante’s side. He kept watching her since the moment she had walked in the room. Terri wanted to say something ugly, but she bit her tongue. Vera thanked her for the glasses and sighed contentedly as she observed her surroundings with full sight.

“Sooo, Terri, would you help me with the tea, please?” Claire demanded and glared at her significantly. Oh. _Clear out the space so they could talk_. Terri followed Claire to the kitchen with displeasure and closed the door.

She wanted to listen anyway, but Claire was noisy – probably on purpose. Terri examined her with apathy, wondering what the pair was talking about.

“He likes her,” she noted, while Claire was opening different cupboards and handing her mugs and ingredients. “I mean, _really_ likes her.”

Claire didn’t protest. “Obviously.” She turned to Terri and looked at her with serious expression. “He wasn’t happy about her getting hurt. He would never allow that if there was another option. Hell, maybe even if there was _not_ another option. I know you wanted to let him know about what Vera did and that she got hurt, but he already has a guilty complex. He likes to pretend he can handle anything, that he has it covered. And he _hates_ when he’s not in control of things – which is what happened tonight. Just… don’t make it worse, please?”

Terri listened to her attentively. It… actually made sense. He seemed to be the everything-is-my-fault kind of man. Of course, in his case, guilt complex mingled with hero complex. She sighed.

“Fine. But no promises,” she warned Claire and she grinned back.

“Noted. And I hear you. He can be irritating.”

“Then why do you help him? Why did you help him when you found him the first time? Force of habit?” Terri was genuinely curious. Claire was a nurse, after all – it was what she did every day.

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Why did _you_ help him?” She continued, not waiting for the answer. “He’s a little shit, but he’s making this city a better place. I work on the ER. People are being brought in – grateful victims of crimes, talking about their mysterious saviour. Injured muggers, rapists, _human traffickers_ who confess what they once did and attempted to do it again, but were stopped…. How could I not to?” she asked Terri rhetorically, voice almost urgent.

Terri didn’t know how to react. Claire shoved her two mugs and knocked on the kitchen counter three times. Terri eyed her bewildered and realized she was letting the Devil now they were coming back. What did she think they were doing there?

When they entered, Vera was examining him with hesitant eyes. Her head snapped up as she heard them coming. She smiled at them brightly when seeing their load.

“You’re my heroes.”

Terri handed her huge cup of tea with tons of sugar and sat in the other armchair. Claire placed the other one on a table and helped _Mike_ to sit up considerately.

“Thank you, Claire. For everything,” he said with honesty, voice low, rough.

Terri realized for the first time, that he had a nice voice. Pleasant for anyone’s ears, engaging almost. She guessed it could come in handy when talking to people he helped, comforting them – and she hated the fact she was thinking about him being the good guy when tonight he was _the bad guy_ – it complicated her attempts to hate him.

“Aw, I’m going to frame those words. You’re welcome, Mike,” she exclaimed and gave him his tea – in an enormous mug as well. “I’m calling dibs on the shower, but feel free to use it once I’m gone, I’ll leave some clean towels for you.”

“You’re leaving?” Terri asked her, surprised.

“Yeeeah. Morning shift, which starts in,” Claire checked the time, “two hours. Damn.” She headed to the bathroom in quick pace.

Terri was horrified when she saw the time. She had a morning shift too. In _less_ than two hours. She groaned.

Vera sipped her tea. “I feel ya, Terri. Me too,” she announced like it was not a big deal.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Vera raised an eyebrow. “Well, I can’t exactly call in sick for the morning shift.”

“That’s _exactly_ what you are going to do. You’re barely standing!”

“Thanks for reminding me. Also, it will get better. And standing is a part of my job description,” she sounded unimpressed. Her voice was perfectly calm.

Terri threw her hands in the air, almost knocking over her precious cup of coffee. “Did you hit your head, too?” She turned to the vigilante. “Help me out a little!”

Vera made a disapproving sound as he hesitantly opened his mouth to talk. “Leave the poor guy alone. Claire just told him to respect my choices.” He closed it.

Terri snapped her fingers as she realized the obvious. “Claire will ground you. You’re not leaving here.” She smiled triumphantly. “And you do not want to oppose her. She’s _scary_ and that means something, coming from me.”

Terri thought she saw a hint of a smile on the vigilante’s face.

Vera huffed. “We’ll see.”

They sipped their drinks in silence, waiting for Claire’s return, when Vera’s lips created a brilliant grin.

“What?” Terri asked her, suspicious.

“It’s nothing. I just wanted to apologize to you,” she faced Terri, pretending seriousness, “that I didn’t call you I was okay tonight.”

Terri gaped at her. _You gotta to be kidding me_. She shot her a murderous look. She was– and she was _so not okay_.

“I hate you. You know that? I really do!”

“Oh, please! You love me!” Vera exclaimed, still smiling widely. With a _very tired_ smile.

It was impossible to be angry at her. Angry for real anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Terri would swear she heard a quiet _I do_ from the couch as well.

\---

It wasn’t until Terri reached the café ( _with_ Vera, who somehow managed to win their argument) when she realized she hadn’t gotten a good look at the Devil’s butt.

_Dammit!_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too many F-words. Also, OMG so many words… not sure I can call it intermezzo no.3. It’s actually the longest part so far. And Terri is a badass protective (girl)friend.
> 
> About the transfusion -it wouldn’t work, I think. I mean I’m like 99% sure it wouldn’t. But screw reality. It does work in this fic.
> 
> Alternative chapter title – Claire being Claire, medical worker extraordinaire 
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine - Landscape
> 
> Also, keep your fingers crossed. I have an exam and it's literaly "I'm damned if I pass and I'm damned if I don't"... it's complicated.


	18. 14)  (Disappearing) In a plain sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, are we gonna talk about it?”.  
> “About what?”  
> “Everything! The fact you literally ran to save his ass. Or that you donated more than a fair share of your blood with the knowledge of passing out _or_ about the fact that he’s totally into you!”

When Vera heard the song ‘Holding Out For a Hero’ from the speakers, she didn’t realize it. Not at the time. The next song was Foo Fighter’s ‘My Hero’. Then Nickleback’s ‘Hero’ started playing and her suspicion slowly rose. Mariah Carey’s ‘Hero’ and Enrique Iglesias’s followed and it was impossible to ignore it at that point.

She turned to Terri with an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

Her friend wore an innocent expression. “What?”

“This!” Vera exclaimed and pointed up in the general direction of the speakers. “How did you even managed that? Since when are you in charge of the music?”

Terri’s eyes popped and she looked around, giving the impression of searching for clues. “What’s wrong with the music? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And that was the end of their conversation, because Terri served another customer. Vera just gritted her teeth when she recognized the first tones of The Chainsmokers’s and Coldplay’s ‘Superhero’.

It was around ten songs later (all with mentions of heroes) when Caroline used her break, because there was almost no one in the café, and Terri spun to her. “So, are we gonna talk about it?” she asked Vera impatiently. Her eyes were shining from too much coffee and the lack of sleep.

Vera sighed. She _so_ should have seen this coming. “About what?”

Terri threw her hands in the air, spreading them widely. “Everything! The fact you literally ran to save his ass. Or that you donated more than a fair share of your blood with the knowledge of passing out _or_ about the fact that he’s totally into you!” She sounded excited. And offended, obviously thinking there is something important Vera forgot to share. (For example the fact that the guy she had been on a date with was the local vigilante and she knew about it for a while now.)

Vera rubbed her eyes, trying not to wipe away the residues of mascara she had there from the other day. “What do you want me to say, Terri? He saved my life. Three times as you happened to highlight just few days ago. Of course I helped him. You can’t say you wouldn’t do the same in my place, because I have no doubt you would.”

“Vera, he had _your number_ in his phone,” she pointed out, not buying it.

Vera snapped her head up. “He did?”

“Yeah.” Terri made a confused face. “Why else you think we would- wait, you didn’t know? You didn’t give it to him?” she demanded, suddenly horrified.

 _Sakra, sakra, sakra. What now?!_ “Uhm… I mean… he asked for it, but I never expected him to actually save it.” _There_.

“And why else would he ask it, you brilliant mind? Why did you give it to him?” She paused, examining Vera thoughtfully and her mouth hung open in disbelief. “You- you have feelings for him! Are you _crazy_?! Vera! You-“ she grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the counter – there were no customers waiting anyway. “He’s dangerous. _Being_ _around_ _him_ is dangerous. Also, do I need to remind you, that you were on a date with Matthew super-hot-and-badass-lawyer Murdock? I can’t _believe_ you!”

Abort! Talking about _Matt_ and _vigilante_ in too short notice! Terri would make the connection sooner or later. Vera had to be very convincing now.

“Terri. Calm down. There’s nothing between us. It’s true that I- look, I can see him a as a human being - he’s just a guy, okay? He’s a good person, he saved me, but has his own friends, family, loves, _life_ and as far as I know, he probably sacrifices a lot of it because of helping other people.  So yes, I care about him. But you don’t need to remind me Matt, I love him. I am not gonna fall for some vigilante,” she spouted sentences as they were popping in her head, hoping they made sense.

She huffed. That was _exhausting_.

And Terri was silently gaping at her, her lips slowly forming an amazed smile. “Oh-my-god!” she yelped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Ohmy,” she mutter in her palm.

Vera didn’t understand what was happening. What did she say?! She blinked. Did she somehow give away some Matt-Mike connection? _Ježiši Kriste_. What if Terri _made_ the connection? Vera started to panic.

“Terri-”

“You have no idea what you just said, do you?” she asked her, still watching her in awe.

 _No, she did not_. She shrugged, palms turned up in _what_ gesture.

“You _are_ one of a kind. _Honey_ , you just told me you love him. Matt, that is,” Terri explained her with a patient smile and Vera frowned at her. Did she?

_But you don’t need to remind me Matt, I love him._

Huh. Guess she had.

“Oh,” was her reaction.

And she actually did. She _did_ love him. For who he was, for what he was doing. For his _passion_ and will. For his smile and laugh, his dorkiness and jokes. For his brilliance. His gentle voice and tenderness, bravery and protectiveness. She _loved_ him. “Then I guess I do.” That realization made her smile.

Terri squeaked. “That’s so great! But I didn’t give him the shovel talk yet, so don’t tell him!”

“ _Oh, I won’t_.” He didn’t have to feel the same. Vera could tell he cared for her – a big time if she would be self-confident enough. But was it _love_? She would _not_ be the first one to reveal her feelings. It had to be him if he ever got to this stage.

“Awwwww. I think I am going to get diabetes, it’s sooo sweet.” Then she shut up and prepared hot chocolate no one ordered, making a note on a piece of paper. “Now drink. You need your liquids and sugars.”

They didn’t bring up the topic again, but the thought of loving Matt didn’t leave in Vera’s mind for the rest of the day.

\---

At half past one, Vera was barely on her feet. Terri decided to walk her home, afraid of Vera ending up lying on the pavement unconscious. Vera thanked her and the very same moment she closed the door of her flat, she put off the contacts and camped on the couch without any intention to leave for another hour or two. She wasn’t ready for falling asleep within five minutes when seating on it.

Her dreams weren’t nice – they were literal nightmare in fact. There was blood everywhere, Matt’s, Terri’s, her parent’s and brother’s, Nina’s – Collins’s face was staring at them all bleeding and laughed and laughed until he finally raised his baseball bat and collided it with Vera’s head. She woke up with terrified scream sounding deafening to her own ears, gasping for air.

Vera decided to skype her mum immediately, knowing she was being ridiculous. But they actually had a long chat, Vera delighted at the fact she had successfully donated blood (not mentioning fading and the involvement of a certain man in black), admitting after her mum’s probing look that she was so happy also because she had had a date recently. Vera didn’t give her mother many details about it though. She rather asked about the rest of the family – just in case.

She also chatted with Marky, Anna and Jitka since she had been neglecting them lately. Once she mentioned her date, she was bombarded with tons of questions and requests for photo and social media profiles. Her friends were disappointed she didn’t have any picture and horrified when they found out he didn’t use facebook or twitter. Vera did give them more info about the date and Matt himself, but she still left the small detail that he was blind for herself. Baby steps.

They switched the topic to the wedding, when her phone started ringing. Vera reached for it, surprised. It was Matt. She immediately picked up.

“Matt! Hey, how are you feeling?” she blurted, not waiting for his greeting.

Quiet voice. “Hello. Sorry, I was worried. You didn’t answer my text and…” Vera frowned and checked her phone – she _did_ have a text there.

**_Hey, Vera. How was your shift? You okay?_ **

She had received it around half past three – she must have been sleeping at the time.

“Sorry. I haven’t noticed, I… actually fell asleep when I got home. It was all good. I feel better. What about you?” she demanded his status. And then she realized he was calling from _his_ phone. Not the _burner_ phone. “Are you at home? Did Claire let you wander the streets in your condition or did you sneak out?”

He sighed. “No. She called Foggy earlier, he brought me some stuff from my apartment, I’m staying another night and going… home tomorrow.”

“You’re totally planning on going to work, aren’t you?” Vera suspected. “Matt, you need to _rest_.”

His huff was barely audible through the phone. “Sounds rich, coming for you-”

“I haven’t been stabbed! Twice! And cut like million times!” She was getting frustrated. Matt was being _suicidal_. She was really hoping he didn’t want to go out _at night_ too. “And you can’t walk!”

“It wasn’t _million_ times. And you needed to rest too. You… you lost a lot of blood,” his voice sounded adamant. It pissed her off.

“ _Matthew_. First, I _donated_ it. There’s a difference. Second, I was okay. I had to go to work. You don’t. I’m sure you can manage a videoconference or something, right? Foggy can bring the work to you…”

“Vera-”

“And you never told me how you feel. And do not say _fine_ ,” Vera spitted the last word as a curse.

“What do you want me to say then? Yes, I don’t feel at my best. I’ll live.”

She huffed. _You better_. “Okay.” She didn’t want to fight with him. She didn’t.

“Okay?”

 “Yeah. Okay.” Vera confirmed. They fell in silence.

“I was really worried about you,” Matt offered kindly.

“Well, you scared me to death, Matt. What if Terri didn’t find you? You… you need to be more careful. And wear some armour or… whatever.”

“It would slow me down. I won the fight. And I _am_ being careful. Can’t say the same about you though. Vera, just… _what_ were you thinking? You were injured not long time ago. And you _ran_ here, offering your blood, not just accepting the possibility of passing out while doing it, but _knowing_ you’ll pass out.” His voice was pleading now, but also sounding accusing.

“You were- hurt pretty badly, Matt. What were you expecting me to do?”

“Anything, really. Especially not endangering your life,” he said, pissed off. _He_ _was_ _pissed off_.

Vera felt her own anger rising again. The picture of his bloody torso floated in her mind. She remembered her dream, him dying, the helplessness she felt in her dream. She imagined being helpless like that the night before and it made her sick.

Her life wasn’t in danger at the time. _His_ was. “I didn’t endanger my life,” she deadpanned, something inside of her boiling though.

“You did! You could have _DIE_ , Vera!” he shouted now and she exploded too.

“No I couldn’t! It was safe enough! I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t!” she yelled at him back and her hand shot up to her mouth at the same moment the words left her lips.

 _Ježiši Kriste_. _What_ did she just say? Did she just-

 _Oh my god_. She basically told him she would _let him die_.

It was a _terrible_ thing to say. But there was one thing that was thousand, million times worse. Her heart pounded in her chest, blood rushing in her ears so loud she couldn’t hear another sound. It wasn’t _what_ she exclaimed. It was the fact her heartbeat was despite its strength and pace scarily _steady_. She was furious at the moment, she let it out in pure rage, but she was _telling the truth_. She was the most horrible human being walking the Earth. She was a _fucking_ monster.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” she whispered, deaf to anything coming out of the phone. There might be nothing but deadly silence, she wouldn’t know.

Vera hung up and let her phone fall. Tears streamed down her face. The very same day she said she loved the man, she discovered her deepest darkest secret. That despite loving him, or at least thinking so, she would… she wouldn’t…

Would she give her life up for someone else? For her parents? For her brother? She didn’t know and she realized she didn’t _want_ to know.

Vera sat there for hours. She didn’t sob. She wasn’t hyperventilating. She just sat there and let the tears of _disgust_ rolling down, not bothering to wipe them away. She thought her phone was ringing. And beeping. She didn’t answer it. She wasn’t even sure whether it was her phone or her ears ringing.

She only got up when she realized she had been sitting in a dark. Vera eyed her watch, finding out it was almost eleven o’clock. She took a shower, brushed her teeth and went to bed, where she silently continued her previous doing. Crying.

She turned off the sounds on the phone and set her alarm. She had a morning shift. She had to go there. She needed the job.

She might fall asleep. She might not. It didn’t matter. The one terrible thing she found out about herself that day, was screaming in her mind with no sound.

\---

“You, _my_ _dear_ , look like absolute shit. Did you get worse? You should have stayed at home…” It was Terri’s voice, talking to her. Why would she want to talk to her?  “Vera!”

A hand waving in front of her face.

“ _What_?” Vera blinked, surprised when she heard her own voice - it sounded so… _strange_.

“Have you been crying all night? Are you okay? What happened?” Terri was worried now. _Great_.

Vera put on her best smile. “I am fine.”

“Do not smile like that. It’s terrifying.” _Yeah, that’s my real middle name_. “Did you… did you fight with Matt?”

That snapped Vera from her apathy. “What makes you say that?” Strange. _Strange and cold._

“I’ll take that as a yes. Is he angry because of… you know?”

Vera looked at her friend for the first time. She was leaning in her direction, examining her, concerned. Why should someone care for her? _Her_ of all people? It wasn’t not like _Vera_ _cared enough_ , did she?

“Yeah. Yeah. He is. I mean… I am. We both are.” She was sure he was _very angry_ with her. If she was him, she would never spoke to her again. Ever. “I uhm… I said some-“ _unforgivable_ “-bad things. He’s not talking to me. Actually I don’t talk to him, he tried to call me after we fought and I hung up. It’s… complicated.” _Because he is kinda the very same man I had donated blood yesterday, but only when knowing it had been like super-safe and I had had nothing to be worry about. ‘Cause I wouldn’t do it otherwise._

Vera scanned her surroundings. She was at the café. Was she just sitting – no, she was standing, leaning onto the counter – or did she work? “Did I actually serve any customers today?” she asked Terri, genuinely curious.

Vera thought Terri gave her a shocked look. “Yes. Yes, you did and you were like a _freaking robot_ , Vera. Did you notice you made like ten gingerbread lattes today without learning it? I mean, it’s not a rocket science, it’s pretty much the same as pumpkin…. I had to drag you away from the counter to take a break and once I let go of your hand, you just _walked back_. It’s scary as hell. And I am saying this after what I saw just two nights ago.”

“Oh.” So she _did_ work. Good. _Let’s keep it that way._ “What can I get you?”

\---

Thursday was unpleasant. Vera was waking up. _Her emotions_ were waking up and she cried like a baby. She was _disgusted_ with herself and she _missed_ _Matt_ and she couldn’t even make herself to pick up a phone and _call him_. She actually left her phone home, just like the previous day. It was liberating.

She didn’t want to bother putting on a mascara, but she came to conclusion that she would frighten customers who were looking on her outside (without seeing her twisted, deviant inside), so she used the waterproofed one. Her insides hurt. The fact she possibly forgot to eat yesterday and the evening before probably had something to do with it, yet, she knew it was more about psychical pain. Her heart ached. And she felt really sick. She managed to drink a cup of Americano – she wouldn’t enjoy her favourite tea, so tried coffee for the third time in her life. The whole shift she felt nauseous from the weird black liquid. It served her right.

When she was leaving the café, Terri grabbed her hand to catch her attention – she was just entering, so she probably had the afternoon shift. “You’re going to Fogwell’s tonight?”

Vera didn’t understand why she was asking. But it sounded like a good idea. She needed to get _it_ out. She needed to hit something and since punching herself would look bad, the punching bag would have to suffice.  And she had to clean up anyway. “Yeah. Why?”

Terri bit her lip. “No reason. Just… you look like you have to beat something up, so…”

Vera tried to smile at her friend. She knew her so well. “Yeah. Thanks. Have a good shift.” _Have a good shift_? Maybe she should stop talking out loud. It would save her _so many_ troubles.

She managed to buy some food on her way home and eat at least an apple before heading to the gym. If she wanted to ruin her body with beating the shit out of anything, she needed energy.

Her cleaning out was quick and effective. She found her hands _trembling_ for being wrapped and clenched into fists. She put the music on and started. Imagining her face instead of the bag was helpful. It took her one song to breathe hard and start crying again.

“ _Doprdele_!” she yelled and blew the bag hardest as she could. God. Vera was pissed. She was mad and sorrowful and exhausted. Drained. And it was all _her_ and all those feelings were mingling inside her and she was letting them out. She yelled again, placing a powerful kick. Another one. One more and a series of quick small punches.

“ _Krucinál_!” She hit the bag both hands simultaneously when the music changed. She didn’t want to stop. But her head was spinning, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She didn’t stop crying for one  second. Slow tones filled the room and she started stretching.

The fourth slow song was playing when she finished and she felt something she didn’t for a very long time. She wanted to _dance_. Vera used to dance. Long time ago, she loved contemporary dancing, because it was a portal to another world. When she wanted to express any emotion, the dancing room she had attended with few other girls, friends perhaps, had been the one and only place where she could have.

So when she heard the first words of ‘Into The West’ , she tried few moves experimentally.

 _Lay down_ __  
Your sweet and weary head  
Night is falling  
You've come to journey's end

 _Sleep now_ __  
And dream of the ones who came before  
They are calling  
From across the distant shore

 _Why do you weep?_ __  
What are these tears upon your face?  
Soon you will see  
All of your fears will pass away

Her limber was a little rusty, sure, but her body remembered _dancing_. And after such a long time, it was actually _calling_ for it.  And the _lyrics_. It felt they were talking directly to her. She wished they would.

_Safe in my arms_ _  
You're only sleeping_

_What can you see_ __  
On the horizon?  
Why do the white gulls call?

 _Across the sea_ __  
A pale moon rises  
The ships have come to carry you home

Did she want to go home? Did she need _the lights to guide her there_? Would she deserve to go home and let someone guide her?

 

 _And all will turn_ __  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
All souls pass

 _Hope fades_ __  
Into the world of night  
Through shadows falling  
Out of memory and time

 _Don't say:  
«We have come now to the end»_ __  
White shores are calling  
You and I will meet again

_And you'll be here in my arms_ _  
Just sleeping_

She would like to return home (wherever that was now). Go home and sleep. _Oh god_. She just wanted to _sleep in someone’s arms._

_What can you see_ __  
On the horizon?  
Why do the white gulls call?

 _Across the sea_ __  
A pale moon rises  
The ships have come to carry you home

 _And all will turn_ __  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
Grey ships pass  
Into the West

 

She ended up sitting in a ball, head on her knees, still crying. But _calmer_ than before. _Peaceful_. She could feel a smile creeping on her lips shyly, as if it was afraid of Vera chasing it away deliberately.

“I didn’t know you dance too.”

Vera snapped her eyes open into the darkness created by her arms and knees. She was going _insane_.

“I used to,” she said to no one.

“It was beautiful. I can’t see everything, but I can sense most of it. The grace. The harmony in your movements.”

Huh. She probably didn’t imagine him. It was easier to talk to him when she believed she did though. So she didn’t look at him. She didn’t move at all to keep that tricky illusion.

“Do you ever get tired of everything?”

“Yes.”

“Of yourself? Did you… did you ever scare yourself with something you did? Felt sorry for it later? But then you found out that’s who you _are_ no matter how much you hate it?”

Her chest ached. She didn’t want to breathe, hoping it would be less painful, but when she didn’t, neither the feeling of her own betrayal or the pain went away.

“It surprises me you have to ask _me_ that question of all people.”

“I said a terrible thing. It made me to want to… to rip myself open from the… disgust of myself. Because it was the truth. I know _it was_.”

Matt sighed. She didn’t have enough strength to solve the puzzle of emotion behind it. “I’m glad.”

Vera snapped her head up. He was hesitantly standing few steps from her. Shifting his weight, not taking any action as if he wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t wear his glasses. He didn’t have his cane. He held himself like he was absolutely healthy and didn’t carry multiple cuts and stabs on his body. Or had busted ankle. He was in his lawyer suit.

So many _unimportant_ _facts_ trying to distract her from what he was saying.

“ _What_?”

His figure came to life, crossing the distance, kneeling next to her and sitting on his heels. If she searched hard enough, she would find _relief_ on his face. “I’m glad that what you said was true.”

He really _had_ said _that_. She had heard him _right_. Vera blinked away her tears, too shocked by his exclaims to react.  He didn’t seem to mind. He attempted to form his own thoughts. “Vera… if you have enough sanity to value your life more than mine, or someone else’s for that matter, it’s _okay_. There’s nothing wrong with the will to live-”

“But it’s not what you do. You’re like a walking selflessness. You run into a fire not caring you might get burn.” … _to death_.

He made a grimace and then carefully touched her shoulder. Vera contentedly hummed at the comforting touch. She _missed_ it and she unconsciously leaned into his hand. Matt smiled with a timid smile and stroked her shoulder few times.

“I never said I am a role model… I told you that your heartbeat is a very important sound for me. I wasn’t lying. I would hate if _anyone_ died because of me. But the idea that one day I wake up and I won’t hear your heartbeat, finding out it fell silent because of me, or _for me_ … that’s just unimaginable. How could I live with that?”

“Do they teach you how to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders in some kind of a vigilante school?” She covered his hand on her shoulder with her palm. His hand was a little cold against hers.

His lips twitched. “No. That part is catholic.” His eyes became very serious. “Vera. I didn’t properly thank you that night, I was holding everything inside me and then it blew off later. I’m sorry. What you did for me was… I _am_ grateful. _So much_. But for _god’s sake_ , don’t do that again.”

Vera pursed her lips. As long her life wasn’t in danger… “…No promises.”

He took a sharp breath in, closed his eyes and exhaled agonizingly slowly. “ _Vera_. Did you listen to what I just said?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. Doesn’t matter. Even though I think I love you, I am still too selfish to actually risk my life, so-”

… If her mind wasn’t screaming at her ‘ _What the hell did you just do?!_ ’ loudly enough, the frozen hand on her shoulder would suffice. Her heart freaked out. Yet, she was sure there were several beats indicating that once again she was telling the truth. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, waiting for the verdict.

Maybe he tilted his head as he was considering his upcoming actions. Was he going to leave? Was he going to pretend it didn’t happen and change the subject? Were _I like you too_ or _you’re important to me_ the next words he would say? Was he going to stay silent for eternity, waiting for her to take it back?

What came, she didn’t expect. He took her other hand and laid it on his chest, right over his heart. She could feel its fast, but steady pace.

“ _I love you too_ ,” he whispered and his voice sounded like a prayer.

There was no jump. No fastening.

 _Her_ ribcage felt suddenly too small. Vera gasped and glared at him. Matt was smiling softly and his sightless gaze was directed right into her eyes. _Watering_ eyes of course, because she couldn’t seem to stop crying these days.

They were sitting there for minutes, his heartbeat slowing down under her palm.

Vera carefully made her way closer to his side, hand still in his, letting them fall to his lap. “Is… is leaning my head on your shoulder okay? Will it hurt you?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it. And I already pulled out most of the stiches.”

Vera winced at the unpleasant idea of the action, but rested her temple on him. The guilt for not just ignoring his calls, but also not asking him about his condition, stung her sharply. “Sorry. I… I should have called you and ask how you’re doing, but… I couldn’t. Not after…”

Matt placed a light kiss to her hair. “I get it. All of it.” He reached for her chin, raising it to his. He still wore a wonderful smile. She had seen it before - she decided she would call it _I-love-you_ smile from now. It was a mixture of _happiness_ , _awe_ and _tenderness_. “May I?”

Matt and his ‘ _may I’_. She couldn’t help smiling too. “I would appreciate it.”

Vera saw the corners of his lips rise higher before they attached to hers tenderly and didn’t leave them for a very long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, you suffer because I am being sentimental and miss contemporary dancing for years now. So for your education: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contemporary_dance
> 
> Some performance (not me, but I came across it while discovering Florence and the Machine songs and c.dance videos): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AulSp_4aRYY
> 
> And the song currently moving me to tears, version from Peter Hollens, absolutely, absolutely brilliant: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ojt0eiFX1K4
> 
> Title originally from Florence and The Machine – No light, no light


	19. 15)  What if love is a feeling (…to believe in?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”  
> “I’m okay. Hello to you too.”  
> “Hello. If you’re fine, why are you calling?”  
> “Is that how your calls usually go or is this one an exception?”  
> “Sorry. Let’s start again… Hey, Matt. What’s up?”

They didn’t leave the gym before midnight, making up for the lost time. When Vera was around him again, she couldn’t keep her hands and lips off him. She never realized she missed his touch _that_ _much_. Matt apparently didn’t mind and she tried really hard to avoid all places where he might be injured. If she failed, he wouldn’t say a word about it.

Terri didn’t call her to demand her home arrival report and Vera had a hunch she had in fact arranged their meeting. Vera would have to thank her later. Her friend was a bad influence though. Vera would never ask the question if Terri didn’t ask her the same.

“Matt?” she whispered, while he kept playing with her fingers in his lap. They were now sitting, sides attached, backs leaning onto the lower part of the ring. Her head rested on his shoulder and he rested his against hers, placing light kisses in her hair occasionally.

“Hm?”

Vera had no idea how to say it out loud. It seemed like a ridiculous thing to ask, but the image of him, lying bloody in a dark alley _without help_ , didn’t leave her mind. What if no one found him? She would learn about _his death_ from the paper. She _hated_ the idea.

His hand stopped its action and he shifted slightly, so he could face her rather than sitting at her side. “Vera? What is it?”

She sighed. “Just… don’t laugh, okay?”

His eyebrow shot up, his expression curious. “I can try.” He made an awkward pause. “I promise, I won’t,” he corrected himself.

 _Now or never…_ “Wouldyoupleaseletmeknoweverytimeyougethomefrompatrol?” Vera blurted out in a speed she didn’t even know she could achieve. Not when speaking English. 

Matt looked confused. “Sorry, what?” He leaned closer as if it could help him to understand her words better. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t help, because it had nothing to with his hearing. She swallowed and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“Sorry. Would you… would you _please_ let me know every time you get home from patrol? Or whatever you call it.” He blinked furiously, pure surprise appearing on his face. Vera felt like an idiot. Again. “It’s stupid, I know. Mostly, I would be probably sleeping by that time, but if I wake up in the middle of the night or in the morning, finding a proof you’re okay, I would be much calmer. Matt, I… if Terri wouldn’t find you… you could have been _dead_. And I wouldn’t even _know_. I would go to work, I would continue my life for what could be _days_ before realizing I haven’t heard from you for too long. It’s not like we meet every day or text or call. I would… I might found out about you dying from the gossipers coming to the café. Or from _newspapers_.”

Yep, she told him everything. She suspected that he could not just smell lies, but also was able to make people tell him the whole truth. Like every single thing that had ever crossed their mind.

She examined him as he tilted his head in a familiar gesture. Matt had a wrinkle between his eyebrows, eyes more distant than most of the time – he was lost in his own thoughts. She waited for his response with her heart hammering and felt like she was asking him to chain a ball to his ankle. She probably looked like a nag. Great. She supressed a groan and it physically hurt her not to face-palm.

“Okay,” he agreed in a quiet voice and his sightless eyes were watching her thoughtfully.   

“Really?” Vera was more than surprised. And _pleased_ he would do it for her. She herself kinda hated assuring Terri she was okay all the time.

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he took her face in his hand, stroking her cheek lightly. “Yes. If you want me to. Not the burner phone though. I had to delete your number.”

“Why?”

“Your friend. She asked for it.” Vera suspected he left the ‘ _in a loud voice’_ unspoken. “And she was right. It’s not safe to keep it there.”

“Claire’s number is in there. Foggy’s too, right? I’d like you to keep it. If it’s not too much,” she admitted and she could immediately tell it _was_ too much in his opinion, “Matt, _please_. I can help you. We established I am not risking my life for it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be useful.”

His palm fell from her cheek. She almost cried out at the lost. “I don’t need you to… I don’t _want_ you to be useful, Vera. I want you to be _safe_. What if something goes wrong and someone get his hands on the phone? Be reasonable. I promise I’ll text you every night I’m out – which is not tonight, in case you’re wondering – but I can’t comply with your other wish.”

His face was very serious. He was convinced he was right. Dammit. How could she possibly prove him wrong, persuade him she was the one actually being reasonable? _She_ was right.

It was her turn to take his head in her hands and keep him looking at her. This was such a terrible idea.... Yet, she wanted to give it try. She carefully bordered his thighs, kneeling in front of and over him, basically straddling him. She could tell he hadn’t seen that coming, which was a real victory in his case. She supressed a smile, grabbed his jaw tighter and kissed him. _Hard_.   

It took several seconds before for his lips to unfreeze and then he started responding  to her lunges – she almost pulled away until he did so, afraid she had done something he didn’t like. But he _did_ like it if his enthusiasm was anything to go by. Opening his mouth, letting her in, their tongues meeting. His hands became alive too, reaching for her hips, making her sink into his lap. The sudden contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body. She wiggled a little, nibbling at his lower lip. His fists clenched at her sides, rumpling her top in his fingers. She could feel _very closely_ that her actions didn’t leave him indifferent either.

_Mind controls the body, huh?_

Well, her mind _had_ to control her body, because she had a mission. She withdrew her mouth from his with the biggest effort - her hands had to keep him from following. His eyes snapped open, dissatisfied, frowning.

“Please. Keep the number there,” she whispered, her own voice unrecognizable, “for me?” She gave him a small peck on his lips.

Matt gasped silently, his hands falling from her body - despite being hyperaware of him, she didn’t realize one of them had sneaked _under_ her top. Huh. He could have left it there. She didn’t mind. Like _at all_. As long he didn’t mind she was after work out.

“That’s…” His voice was hoarse with a trace of hurt. “That’s not how it works.” He unhelpfully gestured towards her as if it meant something.

 _Sakra_!

So she played a little dirty, sue her (and he actually might, huh). Vera made an unhappy face, aware he couldn’t see it anyway. “Well, I tried…” She let go of his face with an attempt to get up and free him, but his hands shot up to her waist.

“Stay,” he growled, grabbing her firmly, not allowing her to leave. It didn’t make her shiver. It did _not_. And she didn’t think it was _freaking hot_. She wasn’t smiling contentedly in her mind, when she once again felt his arousal. _Nope_. None of these things.

“You’re bossy,” she mocked him, challenging him by biting her lower lip, desperately wanting _his mouth_ to do it instead.

Matt could sense it. He had to, because he replaced her teeth with his, hungrily exploring her mouth, conquering, destroying her concentration, clouding her mind, making her forget why she had started this. Despite her being basically on top of him, he was in charge now. He was biting, sucking, _attacking_. She was losing herself, feeling his hands _everywhere_ , on her hips, under her top, under her _sweatpants._ He grumbled in the back of his throat when squeezing her bottom and _oh god, yes_. She wouldn’t stay left behind, finding his waist, finally touching that _fine_ _butt,_ searching under his shirt-

Vera tore her hands away as if she got burn. In reality, she felt more like someone had splashed a bucket of cold water over her when she had touched the bandage. She pulled away with force, leaving him frozen. How could she forget? How could she ignore the fact he had a _freaking_ stab wounds? Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!

They were both panting, his hands still on her body with the lightest touch. He didn’t open his eyes. What was in his _mind_? Did he understand or did he think she just didn’t want to continue to… whatever this would turn out to be? Because she _so did_.

“I should probably go home,“ she disturbed the silence, giving him a small kiss on his forehead. It was the first time _she_ did it to _him_ , the gesture of care and solicitude. Vera hoped he understood.

Matt sighed and pulled out his hands from the inappropriate places. Not that she minded if they were somewhere even _more inappropriate_ … just… not now.

“I’ll walk you,” he breathed out, _lust_ leaving his eyes.

And he did. Vera didn’t find the courage to ask him to stay the night.

\---

Vera slept in – it was Friday morning, she had an afternoon shift and she had come home relatively late, so she decided she was entitled. She made breakfast around ten a.m., passing over the plate Nina had brought her the pie on. Vera still hadn’t returned it, because she hadn’t visited her since. She texted her mum whether they could skype in the evening after her shift, planning to obtain a recipe from her. She also realized it was almost time to bake gingerbreads and other pastries so they would mature until Christmas. Vera thought she might bake a little by herself – she knew it wouldn’t have the same atmosphere like baking with her mum, listening to old carols, but it wasn’t Christmas without candies.

She cleaned up what she could before leaving to work with a small snack. Outside, it was getting really cold. It was 11th November, the name day of Martin – In Czechia anyway. Back at home, they used to say that saint Martin would come riding a white horse – it used to be around the time when the first snow appeared. She wouldn’t know if New Yorkers had suchlike saying, but it was close to freezing temperature. To her disappointment, no snowflakes fell down on her cheeks when she faced the sky. She had to create the Christmas atmosphere by herself.

Vera reached MDDC few minutes before her shift started. There weren’t many customers, but Terri already replaced someone from the morning shift. She was standing behind the counter, probing Vera with her eyes, examining her expression. It occurred to Vera that she must look much better, much _happier_ , than the day before. And Terri was probably the one to blame.

“Did you trick me into a meeting my boyfriend?” Vera asked her, approaching her from the customer’s space.

“You’re welcome.”

Vera just jumped or rather slid over the counter, not bothering to circle it and hugged the shit out of her friend.

“Thank you, Terri. You’re the best!” she whispered to her ear and ignored Terri’s gasping. She might be squeezing her too tight. Also, Olivia was probably staring.  Who cared…. She loved the orange-haired human being.

“Can’t breathe, Vera,” Terri sounded a little unimpressed, but Vera could tell she was smiling. She could almost hear it. Terri was proud of herself. And happy for Vera.

Vera squeezed one more time and let her go – she was right, Terri was smiling widely, her eyes shining as usual. “We needed to talk. We both had time to think about what we said to each other over the phone and we made it right. Thanks to you. _Thank you_ , Terri.”

“Sure thing. I expect to be your bridesmaid for this…” Terri grinned. “Also, you told me you love him and then you fought and you looked like _shit_. It was my duty. And I needed to give him a shovel talk anyway.”

Terri shrugged innocently and if Vera wasn’t so grateful (and slightly embarrassed, because Matt caught her _dancing_ due to Terri’s evil plan), she would be horrified at the fact _Matt_ had gotten a shovel talk from _Terri_ – and he didn’t tell her. Not that they had done that much talking yesterday.

“You… you gave him a talk,” Vera assured herself and Terri nodded.

“Of course I did. Since you two couldn’t have make-up sex yet, but you probably already told him you loved him, it was a must…”

Olivia, who was listening to them _inconspicuously,_ choked on her gingerbread latte. Vera felt her cheeks burn and gaped at Terri. “What the hell-”

Terri made a surprised face. “Well, you haven’t slept together, have you? …No, you haven’t, I can tell. Also, I expect a full report when you do. And you’ve totally told him, haven’t you?”

Terri was certain about it. She was so certain it was terrifying. Terri somehow always knew _everything_. In fact, Vera wouldn’t be shocked if Terri announced her she had already discovered the identity of the Devil and just kept it for herself to make it more interesting.

Olivia started recounting the cashbox, or at least pretended to do so. Her face was bright red as she was holding her violent cough caused by choking on her drink inside (Vera was coming over Heimlich manoeuvre and CPR in her mind, just in case Olivia would almost kill herself trying to pretend she was not listening to their conversation). She actually believed they hadn’t noticed her eavesdropping. _Jeez_.

Vera gulped before speaking, trying to get herself together. “Terri. I have no idea, how you know everything, but it’s _creepy_ ,” she told her friend, keeping her voice down. She realized she befriended _and_ dated a creeper. She might have to rethink her life choices. “But we should drop it. I am very grateful to you. Now, changing the subject, okay? How is Victor? No, wait, I have to change before you start talking…”

“You soooo told him…” Terri’s laugh followed her as she made her way to their cloakroom. She just rolled her eyes. Terri was an annoying human being. Possibly the best Vera had ever met.

\---

Her shift was uneventful. Once Terri started to talk about Victor (and she was _so_ in love with him, because he had made her to try to improve her cooking/baking skills, _Terri_ of all people), she couldn’t be stopped. Olivia finished counting the money in the cashbox, left with her eyes still popped from the info she had received and was replaced by Lyla. Customers filled the café between 2 and 3 p.m. as usual, demanding gingerbread latté with extra sugar. (Vera took a sip from Terri’s cup – it was awful. Then again, it was _coffee_.). She didn’t manage to take a break until half past five.

Vera checked her phone out of habit – and she was close to getting a heart attack, when she found a missed call from Matt. What the hell happened? Did he get worse? Was it something new? What could he possibly do in the light of day? Well, not exactly _light_ at the moment, but still. She called him back immediately.

She didn’t let him to say a word once he picked up. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” she blurted out to the phone, panicked.

The silence lasted for what felt like _eternity_.

“I’m okay.” She let out a sigh of relief. He _did_ sound okay. Caught off guard, perhaps, but not hurt. “Hello to you too.”

She huffed. “Hello. If you’re fine, why are you calling?”

Matt laughed. He honestly _laughed_ at her.  “Is that how your calls usually go or is this one an exception?”

Vera felt like an ass. She was being rude. Really rude. Now, when they established he wasn’t calling in the matter of life and death, she was actually happy she heard from him.

“Sorry. Let’s start again…. Hey, Matt. What’s up?” she sounded as light and carefree as she managed.

She would swear she heard a smile in his voice. “Hi, Vera. I’m sorry to bug you at work, but I have a question to ask,” he played along, starting the conversation over.

He definitely had her attention. What could he possibly want to ask that it couldn’t wait until her shift ended? “Really? In that case I’m all ears.”

He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, he seemed hesitant. No hint of a laugh or a smile in his voice anymore. He was _nervous_. “So… Uhm. We were invited, as in Nelson and Murdock, to a benefit event hosted by Landman and Zack.  Another lawyer firm, we used to intern there.” He would probably fidget with his cane like the first time they met, she imagined. Also, was inviting her? “I wondered if you… if you would like to come with me? It’s next Saturday.” Another pause. “You don’t have to answer now.”

Like hell she didn’t! She was all in, whatever it meant. “Yes! … I mean, I would love to if you want me to,” she added, realizing she agreed too quickly.

Terri appeared in the door with a puzzled expression, probably wondering what was taking her so long. When she saw the phone, she silently mouthed _oh_ and backed out with her hands in a defensive gesture. _Awesome_. Interrogation coming right up.

“That’s… that’s great.” He didn’t seem to notice her hastiness or he didn’t comment. “Great. I’ll let you know when I’ll learn more. Sorry to steal your break. Love you.” He hung up before she could recover and manage to say _I love you_ back. His words warmed her heart though, her mouth involuntarily forming a silly smile.

Vera quickly used a bathroom, feeling guilty for leaving Terri and Lyla alone – it turned out they didn’t really mind, since the crowds thinned considerably. Terri shot her a significant look the moment she returned.

“So, what was that about?” she asked, eyebrows wiggling funnily. ”Awwwww, you’re blushing. That’s soooo sweeeet,” she practically sang and Vera shushed her.

“Shut up. He just wanted to ask something.”

“What…?”

Vera shrugged, trying not to make it such a big deal. “He was invited with Foggy to some benefit, a party or something. He asked me to accompany him.”

“Huh.” Terri inclined her head to side. “What kind of a party?”

Vera shrugged again. “No idea. He said he would let me know. He said something about… Langman and Zach?” she offered, unsure. What was the name again?

Terri squeaked so loudly that half of the café turned their direction. Vera jumped at the sound, alarmed. “Are you kidding me? Landman and Zack? _Oh my god_!”

Vera panicked. What was wrong with it? What was so good about it? WHAT?! “What?!”

Terri looked at her incredulously.  “You have no idea, do you? _Jeeez_ , woman. Okay. Fine. Landman and Zack? Like super-famous! I mean, they screwed up, because they were involved in the corruption case with Wilson Fisk, but still… it’s like the event of the season. Their party is for head honchos. They _always_ talk about it in papers…. You’re _so_ lucky!” Her voice was dreamy, hands clasped together on her chest as she did a spin and grinned widely.

Vera, on the other hand, felt her panic growing into gigantic proportions. What the hell did she agree to? Why didn’t he say something? If it was an annual event, he _had_ _to_ _know_. She froze when she recalled their conversation. He wasn’t nervous because he thought she would say _no_ , he was nervous because _he wasn’t telling her everything_. That bast-

What was she thinking agreeing to a _benefit_ anyway? What did she think she was going to wear to _any_ benefit? She had packed no dresses to US, or shoes for that matter – she rarely wore heels, she was tall enough and it made men around her nervous when she was taller than them - she only had like two pairs of her ballroom dancing shoes and they were _at home, thousands of kilometres away_. And if it was some super fancy party, it wouldn’t be appropriate enough even if she had them here. _Ježišmarja_.

“I have to cancel,” Vera breathed out and turned on her heels with an attempt to do it _right now_.

Hand on her forearm spinning her back stopped her. “Don’t you _dare_!” A murderous voice reproved her. Terri’s face was horrified. “Don’t you dare to even think about it. Why on Earth would you do that?!”

“Because I don’t do fancy parties _for head honchos_!” she blurted out, her mind racing. “I have literally _nothing_ to wear from head to toe and there will be people who most likely even _sleep in their suits_ and women who have personal fitness trainers, daily diet plans and _their manicure_ cost more than _my rent_!” She was hyperventilating. She had to cancel. _NOW_.  She didn’t have time to feel sorry for Matt, who would have to find another… date. Nope. He was a _traitor_.

“I’ll do your _manicure_ , _pedicure_ and help you with choosing your dress, purse, shoes, hair, jewellery, makeup and even find the right tone of a lipstick if you _promise_ me you’ll go and enjoy it for all of us, the ordinary people,” Terri exclaimed deadly serious, taking Vera hands in hers.

Vera watched them in precariousness. She did _not_ want to disappoint Matt, which the reason for _and_ against her coming there. Terri was examining her with hopeful eyes, supportive smile on her lips. Vera took a deep breath, indecisive.

“Okay,” she whispered, not sure she really said it.

“YES!” Terri yelled and this time it wasn’t a half of the café shooting her a shocked look. It was every single person in it.

Vera raised her hand to cover her face with a single thought. _I am going to regret this_ _so, so badly._

She didn’t want to think about it. Making coffee never felt more interesting.

\---  

“You look really tired. Are you okay, sweetheart?” was her mum first sentence when they started the video call. Vera thought it was her universal opening line. Her mum couldn’t possibly see whether she was tired, because Vera didn’t switch the big light on. On purpose.

“I didn’t sleep much last night...”

“Is it about the boy?” she worried, tone disapproving, “Is he taking an advantage of you?”

And _oh my god, mum_.  “No, mum. He’s not. He’s great, amazing in fact.” It wasn’t a lie. And he definitely wasn’t _taking an advantage_ of her. He sure wasn’t with her for sex - it’s not like they had any. _Yet_. “He actually asked me to some party, or more like a benefit event. I have no idea what to wear there, by the way. I didn’t expect events like that when packing…”

“Told you.”

“Not helping, mum!” Vera complained.

Her mum just smiled. “You’ll figure something out, I’m sure. Want me to send you a package? Dress and shoes? Purse? I’m not sure about the jewellery, though. I mean I wouldn’t want _anything_ to get lost, but I like my wedding necklace too much,” she admitted and Vera was astonished.

“You would lend me your necklace?” she gasped. It was a piece of jewel her mum guarded with her _life_. It was the thing she would carry out from a burning house first – after her children and husband, obviously.

“Well, I _would_. It sounds like a big deal. What does he do for living anyway that he invited you to a _benefit_? Or is he still studying? And I’m sorry, there is no way I am sending it over the ocean.”

Vera sighed. She hadn’t given her mum many details about her date or Matt earlier and her mum hadn’t queried, giving her time. Guess her time was up. “He’s a lawyer, mum-”

“Oh my god, how old is he?!” she asked her with a horrified expression.

Vera was offended. “Not much older mum. I can learn from my mistakes, _thank you very much_.”

And David wasn’t that much older. Eleven years was not such a terrible gap when being eighteen herself (especially since he was acting like a child very often). It occurred to her she had actually never asked Matt about his age. He had never asked her either. Huh. She had to find out when his birthday was. “

He’s shortly after school. The event is hosted by his and his friend’s former employers – they had their internship there. I would appreciate if you send me the shoes at least. Maybe a matching handbag? I don’t remember in what state it is. Not sure about the dress. My friend claims it’s something super fancy. I’m afraid I’ll have to buy or borrow a dress. Guess my Christmas are not going to-”

“Oh, I baked! Gingerbreads are ready. Petr promised he would help me with decorating them or Lenka would, anyway. I’m really looking forward to it. Are you going to at least buy some sweets for yourself?”

Her mum changed the subject unexpectedly, sounding excited. Vera couldn’t blame her. Christmas was always a big deal at their household, let alone baking. They always did enough pastries for the whole neighbourhood. If her brother’s girlfriend had offered to help, she had apparently had no idea what she had been agreeing to do.

“Actually, I thought I might try a little baking? Would you send me a recipe? Not everything, just gingerbreads, the linzer and the cocoa ones? Oh and vanilla-almond crescent rolls! That’s a must! Also I was thinking about baking cheesecake. My landlord brought me a pie the other day and she’s amazing, so…”

“Got it. I’ll sent you an email. What about the package? Anything else apart from the shoes and the handbag? And which ones? The silver ones, right? You sure about the dress? And tell me more about him! Matt, right?” she demanded, expression curious. Since when was her mum a _gossiper_?

Vera rolled her eyes. “He’s really sweet. Genuine. Caring. Handsome as f _-_ sorry! So, uhm, yeah, handsome too. Smart, obviously. Funny. Totally out of my league, so there’s that. Anyway, yes, the silver ones. Maybe send the red dress? I’ll consult it with someone who knows better than me. Please, send it as soon as possible. It’s taking place next Saturday, so…”

“Veronika! Language. I guess I got the message though. Send me a picture, would you? And do not let him to take an advan-”

“We’re not sleeping together mum!” _Šmarja_. Vera couldn’t believe she told her.

Her mum seemed surprised. “Oh. Good. Keep it that way for a while. It’s okay to let them wait…”

That’s it. She was not taking love advices from her mum, no matter her marriage lasted for twenty six years now. Vera pretended to yawn. “Thanks mum. Love you. Take care and please, don’t forget the package and recipes, okay? I’m beat. It’s really late.”

“Tell me about it…”

Vera realized that yes, the time zones were different - the other way around. “Mum? Are you awake at four in the morning?”

“Uhm… yes? You wanted to skype…”

Vera face-palmed. She messed up. “I am _so_ sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Her mum smiled widely despite everything. “Honey, I can tell you’re in love. It’s totally normal that some details get mixed up. Just stay happy and safe, would you? Love you too, goodnight.”

No reproaches. Her mum ended the call like nothing had happened. It made her feel even guiltier.

When Vera returned from the shower, complete with her hair wet (damn, she needed to get a new haircut and dyed it before the benefit), she found the recipes, together with few more in her mailbox. God, her mum was _awesome_. Vera set her alarm and went to bed. She had big plans for tomorrow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, saint Martin will arrive riding the white horse. It was like eight years ago when it happened last time, recent winters are shit. Also, I’m really, really trying not to overthink it, but exactly how much the mind controls the body? I mean…? Just wondering… 
> 
> Oh and sorry for causing you diabetes. But hey, the chapter title speaks for itself…
> 
> Title from Rhodes – What if love


	20. 16)  You thought it might disguise…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I might know the right person to help you.”  
> “Meaning what?”  
> “You wouldn’t believe if I told you.”  
> “Try me…”

Getting up at seven a.m., Vera made herself presentable first. Then she went shopping, buying necessary ingredients for cheesecake and paste for the sweets. At night a.m. she lightly knocked on Nina’s door, hoping she wouldn’t be still in bed – or worse, her _husband_ wouldn’t be sleeping, because she would not want to wake _him_ up.

Nina answered the door with a bright smile. “Vera! It’s so good to see you.”

 _“Who the hell is bothering us at nine a.m. on Saturday morning?”_ Vera heard growling voice and instinctively took a step back.

Nina rolled her eyes and turned back to the apartment. “It’s just Vera, honey. She’s here to talk about the rent. Drink your coffee.”

Vera would never _ever_ understand how their relationship worked. Also, rent. She had to pay it too. “I’ll send the money this morning,” she promised, “but I am here to ask a favour. Could I borrow your baking form? A round one? You wouldn’t happen to have the one with removable sides, would you?” she asked hesitantly.

Nina winked at her. “I’ll see what I can do. Sorry.” She closed the door, letting her stand in front of her flat in the empty hallway. It was actually quite funny. Nina returned quickly, having exactly the form Vera needed in her hands.

“You’re a miracle worker, Nina. I’m serious. Would you mind if I stopped by tomorrow so I could share? Or would you come over? We haven’t talk in ages and I’m sorry…”

Nina’s eyes shined with roguish sparks. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. No time for a literally old friend while dating…. Don’t look at me like that. You’re glowing, Vera. Only young love can do that. I would love to hear more about it. I might actually come over if you wouldn’t mind. Thao is getting cranky. It’s the cold weather. Morning or afternoon?” she asked kindly.

Vera blushed, wondering whether she really seemed to be in love. “It doesn’t really matter. I want to go to Fogwell’s in the evening, but otherwise I’m free.”

“Okay. Around two p.m.?” Nina offered and Vera agreed as she accepted the form.

“Two p.m. it is. Thank you, Nina.”

“Nina? Is something wrong? Does she-” _Thao’s_ voice demanded and Nina cursed.

“Coming, honey! See you,” she hissed at Vera and slammed the door in front of her nose again. Vera snorted in amusement and went back to her apartment to get to work.

She made the cheesecake first, preparing the paste for gingerbreads while waiting for the cake to bake. She was hoping the oven wouldn’t do something unexpected like baking twice as fast. It didn’t. It was quite the opposite, but that was the better option. She managed to prepare the paste for lintz, cacao and crescent rolls as well before turning the oven off. She was satisfied with her work, putting the pastes in the fridge. She had enough time to make a quick lunch, sent the rent and headed to MDDC.

Her shift had no Terri, which was a shame. She was in with Barbara ( _yikes_ ) and Michelle ( _hurray_ ). The day was slow, but it was better than Saturday mornings - those were pure boredom unless she had a shift with someone chatty (like Terri or Michelle). Barbara ruined every single attempt of a conversation from Michelle’s side, so Michelle talked to Vera instead. Vera learned that Michelle was planning another trip (for two weeks only this time) with her boyfriend - to Brazil. Vera had no idea where she was getting the money for her journeys.

\---

Vera was walking home, when she got the call. It was an unknown number. She frowned at her phone, wondering who would call her so late.

“Macháčková,” she answered the call hesitantly. Her other hand did _not_ squeeze her pepper spray harder on instinct.

“Hi, Vera,” the male and very familiar voice said on the other end of the line. Blood froze in her veins. _Matt_.

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you hurt?” she darted out questions, getting ready for another run for his life. How the hell did he manage to get himself hurt again? What was he even doing outside?! He had gotten stabbed less than a week ago!

“Why don’t you take the next left and see by yourself?” he asked, teasing her.

And _what?_ “What?!”

She sped up, walking in the alleyway on her left determinedly. There was no one in there. She walked further, scanning her surroundings. Only shadows greeted her.

“I thought we talked about your conversation skills over the phone.”

She jumped, her hand shooting to her chest, trying to keep her frantically beating heart inside. “Ježiši Kriste!” She spun on her heels to face him. “Don’t do that!” she admonished him, pissed off and scared to death.

He was standing right behind her (well, now _in front of her_ ), a smug grin on his lips; the only visible part of his face. The rest of his body was wrapped in black. Very thin black. How was he not freezing? Vera wore her warmer coat already. She shoved her phone back to her handbag with a huff.

“Blasphemy. And seriously, it’s rude to answer you phone like this.”

She couldn’t _believe_ him. “I am entitled! You’re calling me from your _work phone_. The number I do not know, so in case some bad guy called my number from it, he would already know my name!”

“He wouldn’t. I don’t have your number programmed in this one anymore and I’ll delete the record of calling it. You’re welcomed to save mine though.” His voice wasn’t Matt’s, she realized. It was the Devil’s.

“Well, you _should_ have it there, that’s my point from the very beginning. What are you even doing here? Sorry to remind you, but you were stabbed just few days ago!” she was angry with him.

And despite his cockiness (she hated guys being too confident,) she wanted to throw herself around his neck and never let go. Kiss the shit out of him, because he was _right_ here and he was in the _freaking tight_ black uniform or whatever and speaking in his _engaging_ _hoarse_ _voice_ , so similar to the one she had heard two nights ago, when he had gotten _enthusiastic_ about her persuading methods and it made her whole body _tingling_. She _hated_ it. Her body was her biggest enemy these days.

“Nice try.” He approached her, grabbing her arm gently but firmly, pulling her aside from the sights of people on the main street. For a second, he actually seemed guilty. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see you.”

Vera almost melted. _Almost_. “Well, I can imagine _that_ could be difficult for you…. But was this really necessary? I have a flat, you know. With _a door_ in case you’re getting any ideas. Also, are you suicidal? Stab wounds, Ma- _Mike_.”

His grin returned. “Mike, huh? I’m okay, Vera. I know my limits.”

“I’m sure you do...” She was downright sceptical. And once again, she _was entitled_. She measured him with a doubtful glare. He didn’t wear himself like he was in pain. But then again, he rarely did.

And his mask irritated her, because it made her to focus on his lips and _god_ , she wanted them. _So badly._ She hypnotized them, painfully aware of how close they were.

Mad. She was _mad_ at him.

“I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m serious.” It wasn’t just his lips being so close. His whole body was and he took a step into her space, forcing her to retreat. Her back collided with a wall. “I really missed you, you know.”

 _So suggestive_.

His _words_ , his _tone_.

Her brain wasn’t able to form words as he bordered her head at its sides with his gloved palms on the wall. Her eyes kept flickering to his mouth wearing a small smile. He was shamelessly seducing her in the dark alley in the middle of the night. And the shadows, the dimmest light, the mysteriousness, his low voice, his lips smiling predatorily – it all worked too well.

Angry.  She was-

His lips met hers hungrily, opening her mouth with no effort. Her handbag fell to the ground, forgotten, her hands reaching for his body, tracing it over the black material so thin she barely registered it. His knee wedged between her legs, pressing his body to hers tighter. Her toes curled in pleasure when his mouth left hers to explore the small spot on her neck between her jaw and the hem of her scarf. He bit her there teasingly and she couldn’t supress a moan. Her wrists were suddenly pinned to the wall above her head, gripped violently in one hand. He returned to her mouth playing with her lower lip with his teeth.

“ _Matt,”_ she breathed out desirous, considering letting him to do _anything_ he wanted to, _right there_. She liked to think she was rather shy, especially relatively in public - but _this_ was _hot as fuck._ Her insides were _burning_.

“Missed you,” he murmured to her lips absently and pulled away few inches, letting go of her wrists. She was welcomed by cold again.

“Missed you too,” escaped her lips before she could stop herself and restart her brain. She snapped her eyes open, welcomed by his mask.

“The mask is irritating, you know?” she complained. (She would _not_ admit that his mouth attracted her attention even more since she couldn’t see his eyes. Ever.)

He took a step back and carefully lifted the black fabric, still leaving it on his head. His gaze was distant, vaguely focusing on her nose. “Better?”

Vera smiled. He was Matt again. She couldn’t make herself feel sorry for the Devil’s departure, seeing his soft eyes. “Yeah. But I’m right about the phone number whether you like it or not. I’ll prove you wrong one day.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she wasn’t finished. “Also, you’re a traitor, you know that?”

Matt blinked in surprise, head tilting. “Why?”

“I was thinking you were sweetly nervous when asking me to the benefit,” she whispered exasperatedly, “while you were just keeping details for yourself, weren’t you?”

“I…” he started, squirming uncomfortably and Vera sensed the upcoming lie. She placed her hand over his heart, challenging. His eyes popped at her tactics.

“Hey, if you’re able to tell when I am lying, I deserve the same! Did you know what kind of a fancy benefit it was when you asked me? ”

He looked miserable. “Yes,” he sighed. Vera could feel his steady heartbeat.

She gritted her teeth. He knew she was terrified by anything too fancy! It required _different types of formal clothing_ and _using the right forks_. “Was the secrecy a part of your evil plan to get me there, because you knew once I’ll say yes, I probably won’t back out when I’ll find out about it later?”

Matt made an unhappy grimace, but didn’t answer - she must have been _right to a hair_. She smacked his chest, not caring if she hit any wound.

“ _Blbečku_!” she vented her indignation and slapped the same spot again.

The corner of his lips twitched. “You’re cute when you swear in your mother tongue.”

She looked at him with disbelief. Cute. _Cute?!_ She stretched out her hand to smack him once more, but he caught her wrist strongly. “Let go.”

Matt didn’t. He lowered his head and gave her palm a small kiss. And it was really unfair, because he switched from cockiness to greediness, to tenderness in seconds and she loved every side of him (yes, even the _cockiness_ , there was something about it what made her heart to do funny things). It was hard to be angry with him, especially when it wasn’t a life-death situation.

Feeling her anger fading away, he _did_ let go of her hand. He didn’t say a word though.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Vera mumbled under her breath and was rewarded by his brilliant smile and slow gentle kiss.

“I _know_ I am. Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He returned his mask back to its place, hiding his eyes.

Vera was bewildered by his exclaim, but it turned out that being _walked home_ by the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen meant _being followed_ by the invisible figure moving from rooftop to rooftop silently. Reaching the door of her apartment building, she looked around, noticing a person crumbled on a top of the nearest building – Vera was pretty sure she saw him only because he _wanted_ to be seen. 

 _“Let me know when you get home, okay?”_ she said in a low voice, knowing he would hear her.

She received his text shorty after she entered her flat.

**_I will. I love you._ **

Vera didn’t fight a smug smile when she realized he had written it from his burner phone, wondering if he was going to delete the message as well as the record of calling her earlier. She was confident he was considering saving her number again. Vera would definitely save his. From that night, his ‘work number’ was listed in her contacts as _Mike_.

\---

 ** _Back at home without a scratch._** read the text. Vera checked the time of receiving – 2:35. She wondered what was Matt’s definition of ‘ _without a scratch’_. She guessed it meant he wasn’t seriously injured, since she didn’t believe he hadn’t gotten into any fight last night and escaped unhurt. She was grateful he did let her know, smiling contentedly as she read the text for the third time.

Vera got up from her bed, excited about baking, only to realize she didn’t have a rolling pin or cutters. Or baking sheets for that matter. She huffed and decided to pay Nina another visit. Nina was surprised, but Thao wasn’t at home this time, so Vera could come in and choose few cutters from Nina’s collection. She confirmed the afternoon visit and Vera come back to her flat.

In her laptop, she found some of the old Czech Christmas songs she usually listened while baking with her mum, so she put them on, humming in the rhythm. She was busy the whole morning, almost forgetting to grab a lunch – her flat was a mess, baked cooling sweets everywhere, flour probably even behind her ears, but she was smiling happily when she removed the last batch of lintz from the oven, gingerbreads already finished from before. She was proud of herself.

Vera took a short shower before eating, because she actually _had_ flour in her hair and she didn’t want to scare Nina. _Cooking_ couscous and vegetable in order to save time, she was ready to Nina’s visit and managed to clean up briefly. She answered the door with a bright smile, carols and Christmas songs still echoing in her head.

“I don’t know what you’re baking, but it smells amazing all over the building,” was Nina’s first words, when Vera welcomed her. Nina had two cups of steaming drink in her hands, corners of lips turned up. Whatever it was, it had a huge cap of whipped cream with tiny marshmallows on it. “It made me all christmas-y, so I brought hot chocolate.”   

“With marshmallows?” Vera wondered, absolutely baffled, before she realized they served it in MDDC too. She never gave it much thought – she didn’t understand people’s tastes, she just accepted it. “Sorry, come in.”

She stole the cups from Nina, so she could took off her shoes. Despite having lunch about an hour ago, her mouth watered as she carried them to the living room. They had to drink it as soon as possible. The whipped cream already started melting.

“Wow. It really smells great. You did all of these by yourself?” Nina examined the plates with stacked pieces and Vera shrugged. She didn’t think it was too much. But then again, her mum was a megalomaniac when it came to baking, so her measuring scale might be wrong.

“Yeah. Sit down, please. The chocolate looks amazing. The cheesecake can wait, unless you want to eat it with it.”

Nina sat on the couch, shaking her head. “It would be a crime to mix those two up. I’m sure the cake is delicious.”

Vera brought spoons for both of them and sat cross-legged in an armchair, taking the cup in her hands. She worked on the treasure with respect, surprised that the marshmallows didn’t ruin it.

“Huh. It actually tastes good. Never thought this combination would work…”

Nina just laughed. “Why do you think people drink it?”

“Because they are weird. I mean, they drink pumpkin latté too. I couldn’t even smell it, it was hell,” Vera admitted, watching Nina enjoying her own cup, now frowning.

“Touché. I tried it once – no offence, but it’s crap.”

“Non-taken. So, how’s life treating you? How is work? What about Maria?” Vera asked her, genuinely curious. They really hadn’t talked for too long.

Nina eyed her, face delighted. “She’s coming home for holidays. Taking her girlfriend with her. I haven’t seen her in ages, because she couldn’t come last year. _I can’t wait_. I didn’t have a chance to meet Caitlin, yet,” she shimmered, suddenly looking ten years younger. Nina loved her daughter. Vera wondered how much her mum missed _her_. She suspected it was more than she was letting on.

“That’s great. When she’s arriving? I would love to meet her if you let me.”

“21st November. So we can spend Thanksgiving together too.”

Nina seemed to be glowing.  Vera remembered they learnt at school about Thanksgiving being more important for family than Christmas in US – she had been seeing hints of upcoming holiday everywhere, she just didn’t make the connection, since they never celebrate anything like this in Czechia. 

“But, speaking of meetings… who’s the _mysterious_ _thief_ _of your time_ , making you too stay up late, answering your door in pyjama at half past nine?”

Nina was grinning. The news of Maria’s visit made her truly happy and now she was teasing Vera. Vera blushed at the memory, especially at the fact Matt had been in her apartment at that time, only feet away from her neighbour and friend.

“Uhm…”

“Whoever it is, I don’t judge. My daughter is gay, Vera. If he or she has two heads, it doesn’t matter, because your eyes are _shining_ ,” she reassured her motherly and Vera bit her lip. She didn’t know where to start – she was certain Nina heard about Matthew Murdock – whether as a kid losing his sight when saving an old man or as a lawyer.

“Uhm. Actually, he’s a really sweet _guy_ , with only one head and a brilliant mind,” she exclaimed, voice light.

Nina’s eyebrow shot up. “Go on. You’re blushing so hard I’m afraid you’re feverish. Do I know him? Is he fifty or what?”

Why was everybody assuming her boyfriend was greybeard?  It was offensive.

“He is _not_ ,” she defended him _and_ herself. “He’s fresh out of college, pretty much. It’s just… you probably _do_ know him. We met in a café and at Fogwell’s.” She didn’t mention he was actually arriving _after_ _her_. She also kept the small detail that they had met several other times while he was wearing a black mask for herself.

“So…?”

“His name is Matt. Matt Murdock. He’s a lawyer-”

Nina whistled. “Okay. Wow. I would be blushing too if I dated him. And was your age, of course. I am not- whatever. Huh. Matt Murdock. You live to surprise.” She seemed astonished. If Vera didn’t thought he was out of her league too, she would be insulted.

“Yeah. I know. I have no idea what he sees in me.”   _1,2,3…_ “Poor choice of words. You know what I mean…”

Nina frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that. G _od, no_. Vera.  I didn’t expect it, though. Maybe I should. Czech girl, moving to Hell’s Kitchen, temporarily perhaps, interested in boxing, working in a café despite hating coffee. You know what? I take it back. I am not surprised. Of course you charmed the-blind-lawyer-who-is-pretty-much-a-local-celebrity. I should have seen it coming,” she muttered under her breath.

“Like you said. I live to surprise. Which reminds me – even heard of Landman and Zack?”

“Yeah. They are a big deal. It’s impossible not to.” Vera would not second this one. She had no idea who they were. “And we had few arguments with them recently. Why?”

Vera huffed. She shouldn’t have asked. But she didn’t want to rely on Terri’s opinion only. She didn’t believe Terri was the right person to advise her about formal clothing, no matter how much she loved her friend.  “Well. They have something like an annual benefit, from what I understood. And I am… kinda invited. I have no idea what to wear. I’m afraid I don’t even have enough money to buy something I could wear,” she admitted, desperation reaching her voice.

The corners of Nina’s lips twitched. “ _Kinda invited?_ It wouldn’t have anything to do with your love interest, would it?”

“Maybe. I’m thinking about refusing it. Seems like a better option than making an a- an idiot of myself. Or him, for that matter…”

Nina eyed her thoughtfully. “Why would you make _an ass_ of yourself?”

Wasn’t it clear? She just told her. Vera shrugged. “’Cause I’m not as poor as a church mouse, but there is no way no one notices I do not belong there.”

Nina huffed. “ _Please_. It’s all about the art of disguise. Any ideas? Show me what you got.”

Vera was bewildered.  She didn’t expect this visit to turn out this way. She took her notebook, searching her old photos from dance competitions, to show Nina her shoes.

“Making an ass from yourself, huh? I wouldn’t worry about that. I guess dancing skills are covered, aren’t they?” she mocked her.

Vera smiled at the memories of the group she had been a part of after leaving the contemporary dance classes. It had been just a matter of time before she would switch, especially when their former teacher had retired. Ballroom dancing in pairs connected in a group had been a big change, but she loved it anyway. In their area, it was common to attend dance lessons after finishing elementary school – she had felt in love with it instantly, not wanting to stop after finishing the course with her classmates. One year, she had been attending both, contemporary and ballroom, then falling for the latter and leaving. They had had three more years of fun and sweat, music being their heartbeat. She didn’t stay in contact with her group intensively, but they still met at least twice a year. Never the whole squat at one time though.

Someone’s hand snapped fingers in front of her eyes. Vera blinked in surprise. “Sorry. Great memories.”

“I’m sure they are. The shoes are good. You would probably also feel more comfortable in them, since you’re used to it. We wouldn’t want to exaggerate and make you more unsure you’re already are. Any dress?”

Vera bit her lip, finding a picture of the red ones her mum should send her. Nina let out a disproving sound. “Not fancy enough, right? Damn. I thought so,” she cursed and Nina clicked her tongue.

“It’s not that bad. I’m thinking red is okay and you’re young, so you don’t have to necessarily wear a gown. You can go for short dress.” Nina reflected out loud.

Vera resisted the urge to whine. She didn’t understand a thing about this. And she didn’t want to wear something she wouldn’t be able to move in. Or _breathe_. She was confident she wouldn’t be capable of breathing even without clothes trying to suffocate her. She observed Nina’s expression as it lighted up.

“What?”

Nina winked. She _winked_ at her. “I might know the right person to help you.”

Why that sentence scared the shit out of Vera? “Meaning what?”

Nina gave her a smug smile. “You wouldn’t believe if I told you.”

“Try me…”

\---

“So the cousin of your ex-husband, who you married on your eighteenth birthday and divorced a month later, because you found out he cheated on you with _your_ cousin, is a tailor?” Vera asked Nina incredulously, losing herself in Nina’s narration.

Nina shook her head. “Close enough. It was a step-mother of my cousin he cheated on me with, but I get it, my family relationships are difficult…”

“No kidding.”

“But, I am pretty sure she would be willing to postpone everything she’s working on and sew a prefect model for a reasonable price for you if you would wear it once and she could sell it then. Well, she would do it for me, since she owes me.”

“You would spend the favour she owes you on me? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“She owes me like a million favours,” Nina noted and kept Vera wondering.

“What did you do?”

“I helped her to find a ridiculously cheap apartment after she was kicked out from her flat – her neighbours kept complaining about constant visits and clatter of a sewing machine. She has her own house now though. And I found a flat for her sons and daughter. Huh. She really _does_ owe me.” Nina sounded as surprised as Vera was.

“And I am the one who lives to surp-“

Nina waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. What are you doing tomorrow afternoon and evening? Nothing? Awesome. We’re going for a trip!” She clapped her hands and looked around the room. “So, where is the cheesecake?”

Vera stood up and cut the piece of a cheesecake for both of them, putting two other pieces on Nina’s original plate so she could carry it home. She was too caught off guard by the development of the events that she couldn’t find strength to protest. Against _anything_.

And in case the afternoon didn’t feel surreal enough, it started snowing lightly. No snow stayed on the streets – it melted the same moment it touched the ground – but it left Vera in awe the same. She barely paid attention to Nina who was talking about her preparations for Maria’s and Caitlin’s visit. Vera wondered when was she was going to wake up from this strange dream.

She didn’t. She woke up on Monday morning on her set alarm, remembering doing some more baking after Nina left, going to Fogwell’s and back home, showering, wrapping herself in covers and finding a text from Matt ( ** _All good. I’ll take a wild guess it was you, who listened the songs I didn’t understand a word from. Loved it._** _)_ received at 3 a.m. She pinched herself to make sure it was real anyway.

\---

The whole Monday didn’t feel real either. Her morning shift passed in one blur with only one significant moment. _A blonde woman_ eyed hers and Barbara’s nametags curiously while waiting for her order, checking the cups after Vera handed them to her – she didn’t seemed to be surprised when she found a sticker on Matt’s. Blood coloured Vera’s cheeks as the woman looked up and smiled at her kindly. Vera wondered whether the invitation to the party applied to her as well, or Foggy was taking her. Maybe she wouldn’t come with them at all – Vera would be glad if she would – she wanted to meet Matt’s friend and co-worker. 

“Thanks, Vera. Matt says hi, by the way. Anything you want me to pass on?” she asked, still smiling, no trace of annoyance.

Vera gaped at her in shock. So he was using the poor woman as a messenger now? She was thinking about what she could tell him when she remembered he had been listening to her while she had been baking and _humming_ , occasionally _singing_ and she wanted to sink into the floor of the café.

“Well. I guess you’re Karen Page, so nice to meet you.” Vera extender her hand over the counter as Karen moved the holder to her left hand and reached out to her with a small laugh.

“Yes, that would be me. Nice to meet you too.”

“You can let him know he should stop being a lazy ass and get his own coffee and also stop eavesdropping, he’ll know what I mean.” _Damn his superhearing!_ …But he had send his regards at least. She sighed and leaned over the counter, gesturing to Karen to do the same, so she could whisper to her ear (and make sure, or she hoped so, that Matt wouldn’t get the message before Karen told him) “And please, tell him ‘ _Miluji tě.’_ He wouldn’t know what that means, but that’s the point.”

Karen smiled wickedly. “ _Miluji tě,_ ” she repeated in low voice and Vera nodded.

“Exactly. You’re amazing, Karen. Sorry for being used like a carrier pigeon,” Vera apologized, feeling honestly guilty.

Karen waved it off. “Please. I used to work as a secretary at Union Allied – I had to do much worse. Matt and Foggy? They treat me as an equal. I actually offered to buy coffee today and be the messenger. See you around, Vera.” She winked and left the café.

So _no_ , morning and early afternoon didn’t feel real in the slightest.

After the shift, she dropped the groceries she bought on her way home in her flat before picking up Nina – well, _picking up_. Nina borrowed a car from her friend so they didn’t have to use public transport to get to Jersey and drove Vera to the tailor. For Vera, the woman had a cover name _the tailor_ , because she wouldn’t know how else to describe their relation in one word otherwise. Even when she learned her name was Edna, she would be _the tailor_ \- recalling The Incredibles, Vera refused to call her Edna, because she burst out laughing every time Nina said it out loud. She wanted to call her by her last name, until she found out it was a total crack-jaw. Well, it was the smallest of her problems anyway.

The ride was too short. Nina parked her car in front of a huge two stories house and Vera’s jaw fell down. “The ground floor is her atelier. She an artist, Vera. Grandiosity and chaos is what she lives for. Come on.”

Vera hesitantly followed her as she opened the gate to a tiny dooryard and rang the bell. It took about two minutes for someone to answer through the speaker. “Have an appointment?” The woman’s voice crooked mechanically, disguised by the old machine.

Nina touched some button on it. “It’s Nina, Eddie. I’m here-”

A buzzing sound and the door opened with no other words.

“Okay…” Vera breathed out, failing to calm herself down. If she was nervous now, what would she be on Saturday? _A wreck_ , a quiet sarcastic voice answered her. She shushed it mentally.

They entered a cosy hall with hangers sowed all over the opposite wall, colourful slippers lined up under it. Seeing the homey space, Vera relaxed a little.

“Hello, darlings!” shouted a cheerful voice from their right and Vera jumped. Nina wasn’t surprised. She obviously knew what to expect.

Vera eyed the woman cautiously, relieved she wasn’t black-haired with extravagant glasses – she wore small decent ones and her blond hair was tied to a messy bun. She was dressed in a slightly lunatic-looking overall, wearing a pair of bright orange slippers.

Nina received a hug and a kiss on a cheek. “Hi, Eddie.”

 _Eddie_ turned to Vera and grinned at her widely, showing her all teeth.

Vera decided the woman was insane. As in _good_ insane. There was no reason for her to wear anything fancy – she was apparently in the middle of working on something and she was basically meeting an old friend. Vera wouldn’t judge her ability to sew and design according to her outfit and behaviour. Her pitching glare directed to Vera made her nervous though.

“Stop shifting, sweetheart. I’m just observing my customer, mentally scratching some of my earlier ideas. I prepared some drafts for you. I’m Eddie and let me tell you, it will be delight to work with you. Now lose the coat and shoes and come in, both of you.”

Vera managed an approximation of a smile before she did as Eddie said and followed her and Nina to her atelier. And she was _amazed_. It was spacy with four different tables, two of them having sewing machines on it. Pieces of textile and backlogs lying everywhere, needles and pins in pincushions, scissors, tape measures, ribbons, dummies… it _was_ a mess. A very colourful mess.

Eddie returned to examining her. “Alright. So, Nina sent me your facebook profile, so I had a vague idea of your looks. She also told me about the shoes you’re planning to wear and your attachment to your red dress, so I adjusted the drafts to that. I don’t know what colour they were exactly, but I toned the clothing rather to cherry and scarlet than candy red, it will work better with your skin and hair. Ready to see them?” she babbled enthusiastically and Vera observed her carefully, trying to guess the right answer.

What was she even talking about? Cherry? Candy? What did she prepare for her?  “Sure. Whatever you want me to do,” she said in a resigned voice.

Eddie frowned. “Aw. Why so sadly? Be excited! Come here.” She gestured to her, Nina shoving Vera lightly from behind, so she obeyed and approached the table Eddie was standing by, putting away few papers.

Seeing what was on it, Vera gasped. There were seven pictures with different miniature dresses, pieces of fabric glued to sketch figures, looking approximately like Vera. _Seven_ _different designs_ and three others put away – probably the ones ruled out by the tailor after seeing Vera in person. She couldn’t believe it.

“What the hell?” she squeaked, not caring it was rude. She observed the drawings in awe, tracing fingers over them carefully. How did she manage that? Had she already worked on something by the time Nina let her know? They had decided yesterday afternoon!

“Meh. I got excited,” Eddie replied unimpressed and Vera felt Nina approaching them from behind, so she could see the drafts too. She didn’t comment on them.

“So? Any ideas? Nina said you’re a dancer and there is no need to wear gowns, so I didn’t even bothered with long dresses except these two with a slit. Like anything in particular?” Eddie asked her, giving her time to inspect all of them.

Vera stared at it. They were all beautiful. It was _impossible_ to decide. She put away the long dress with long slit and very, _very_ deep v-neck though. If she wore those, her cheeks would be the same colour as the dress.

“Not this one,” Eddie guessed and Vera shook her head lightly, eyeing her, worried she insulted her somehow. But she just nodded. “I thought so.” She placed the paper on the top of the other three.

Vera ruled out three others – a short one with red ( _scarlet_ ) glitters all over its top part, because they felt like dress she would wear for a high school prom and another two with heart-shaped neckline covered in lace, since she had tried that kind of neckline before and it didn’t look as good on her as on the hanger. One of them was simply short and the second one was front-short and longer-back.

The tailor hummed in agreement. It left Vera with three dresses – short one, long one and combined again. They were all very different – now it _really_ felt like an impossible choice to make. Not mentioning she didn’t even consider the price of any of these.

Vera looked at Nina desperately. “Nina? A little help, please? What do you think?”

Nina, who had been watching her choices attentively, immediately pointed at the long one. “These? Out. They are lovely and you would be a _babe_ , but it is too suggestive. Doesn’t feel like you,” she exclaimed with confidence and Vera thought about her words. Nina was right. Vera put the design away too.

Vera _loved_ the remaining two. She always had a thing for a boat-neck, imagining she might wear it on her wedding day if she ever got lucky to get married. The dress was short, with delicate flowers on the edges, on the front and few on the slightly fluffy skirt too, ribbon around the waist.

The other one was really dark red, reminding her of blood, strapless, flowing skirt with several layers made of thin translucent fabric, front -short and back-long, stripe with jewels in silver and red wine colour around the waist too.

Vera closed her eyes, imagining herself wearing the dresses. It was hard. She saw nothing but blackness. It reminded her of Matt - he wouldn’t be able to see her as in _see_ her in the dress. He would hear the fabric shifting on her body, feeling it with his fingers. She peaked in the direction of the two remaining drafts, touching them at the same time, closing her eyes again.

Nina gasped when she realized what she was doing.

The choice was a little easier after that. She put away the boat-neck and looked at the women. “This one, maybe?”

Nina’s lips spread in wide smile as she nodded and Eddie grinned once more.

“I wouldn’t pick up it better, sweetheart. This one was my favourite ever since the moment you walked through that door.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, we bake a lot before Christmas. And I hate marshmallows, sue me. So really – hot chocolate with marshmallows?
> 
> Also, I’m well aware literally nothing happened in this chapter and it was **scarily girly.**
> 
> P.S. – The Incredibles are far from my favourite, but Edna :D I think she would like the Devil’s outfit – no cape O:-)
> 
> Dress ruled out in order:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/236x/24/43/1c/24431ce5dd988e4749b5cbd3979a29b6--split-prom-dresses-modest-prom-dresses.jpg  
> http://womandmore.com/assests/images/prom-dresses-red-and-black-naf-dresses.jpg  
> https://img.simplydresses.com/_img/SDPRODUCTS/1425020/320/burgundy-dress-PO-7214-a.jpg  
> https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1e.OdOFXXXXafaXXXq6xXFXXX4/Lace-Cap-Sleeve-Dark-font-b-Red-b-font-Prom-font-b-Dress-b-font-Illusion.jpg  
> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8d/e8/86/8de88674679aa026e642ae2215f207f4--prom-dresses--red-cheap-prom-dresses-under--long.jpg  
> https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB124xJSpXXXXXCXVXXq6xXFXXXu/PotN-Patio-Sexy-Boat-Neck-font-b-Short-b-font-font-b-Prom-b-font-font.jpg  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/c9/3a/a5/c93aa5ac1ad34534730142b1168852f5--short-evening-dresses-red-evening-dresses.jpg
> 
> Title from Rhodes - Run


	21. 17)  …The parting line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So it’s because of a date, huh?”  
> “Yeah.”  
> “Why didn’t you plan it on another evening?”  
> “I couldn’t. It’s a party.”  
> “She really couldn’t. She’s dating Matt Murdock. He’s a busy man.”  
> “No way!”

The Monday night was extremely cold, the weather unpleasant – Vera couldn’t decide whether it was raining or snowing when she was getting out of the car, returning from the atelier after the tailor had taken her measurements – like _all of them_. They actually had settled on a reasonable price, both sides content. Nina promised she would bring Vera for fitting on Thursday – Vera was hoping that by that time, she would have her shoes and purse (she took a picture of the miniature, so she could look at it when shopping). She realized she had to switch shifts with someone – in a perfect world, she would have the morning ones for the rest of the week except Sunday. She had to do it as soon as possible.

Vera turned on the heater in her apartment to maximum, hoping Matt wasn’t outside that night. In better case, he would catch a cold. In worse, he would slip on the white frost and fell from a rooftop. Luckily, he called her around ten p.m. to tell her he was staying in.

Remembering his mocking, she accepted the call with all politeness. “Hey, Matt. How are you?” she asked him as sweetly as she managed.

“Hi, Vera. As good as ever. Can’t get one of the carols from my head though…” he admitted and Vera thought is served him right. “What about you?”

“Well, that’s what you get when you’re eavesdropping. Which one?”

He huffed. “Well, I don’t remember the words. No idea what they mean,” he fell silent for a while and when she spoke again, his voice was soft, “I looked up _your words_ though.”

Vera smiled for herself. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” Matt took a deep breath, “ _taky tě miluji_.”

Vera covered her mouth to keep the delighted laugh in. He had the weirdest accent, but it was _right_. He said it right. It warmed her heart and made it to race in an incredible speed. She uncovered her mouth so he would understand her words.

“Miluji tě.”

“It’s beautiful when you say it.”

“Well, I don’t really think it matters which language you speak. The message is more important. I love you, Matt. You’re not going outside, are you?” she demanded, worried.

“No, I’m not. Unless I hear something urgent. I am not suicidal.” Vera sometimes doubted that, but she didn’t say it out loud. “Anyway, you’ve never answered me how you’re doing. What’s up with the baking?”

“Christmas are coming. Well, creeping in slowly. I won’t celebrate Thanksgiving, so Christmas it is. Gingerbreads need time. I’m good otherwise.” She wanted to add she started preparations for the benefit, but stopped herself. He didn’t need to know that.

“Hm. I wouldn’t know. We never baked.”

Vera gasped, horrified. “Ever?! That’s it. You’re getting the biggest batch once the sweets are finished. I’ll try to find the purest ingredients for decorating and gluing it together so it wouldn’t offend you delicate taste. Šmarja…” She had to admit she kinda understood that his dad probably hadn’t been much of a baker and in the orphanage.... God, his life was _so_ sad.

He laughed, not sharing any other heart-breaking fact from his childhood. “Thanks. I appreciate it, Vera… you… you’re not getting any second thoughts about Saturday, are you?”

Vera blinked in surprise. Why would he ask that? “Uhm… no? Should I? Is everything okay? Something came up and you can’t go?”

Matt rushed to disprove. “No! No, everything is fine. I realized I haven’t told you what time it is. Toast is at seven p.m., I thought we would pick you up at quarter past six? We would like to be there around quarter to seven. Foggy is taking Karen and your apartment is the closest to the event. Is that okay?”

Foggy was taking Karen? Good. “Where is it?”

Matt told her a place she had never heard of. She wasn’t surprised she hadn’t. She would look it up later.

“Okay. Thanks. Anything else I should know? Like a dress code or whatever?” She hoped there was none. Because the making of her dress was already in motion. And she really liked it.

Matt sighed. “No. But I do have to warn you. It would be boring, most likely. Lots of talking with people who think the biggest problem of the world is the clients who couldn’t afford them.” He didn’t seem to be thrilled either. Well, it made two of them. At least she wouldn’t be the only person who wouldn’t feel good around that kind of people.

“Good to know. I promise I’ll be smiling politely the whole evening, nodding when expected to and laughing at jokes I don’t understand if necessary,” she swore with an attempt to cheer him up.

It worked. Matt’s laugh reached her ears again. “You’re amazing, Vera. I’m glad you’ll be there with me. I promise I’ll try to make it as bearable for you as possible,” he pledged in return, sounding serious. “I’ll protect you from any possible threat – starting with boring head honchos, ending with pickpockets. Treating sprained ankles from broken heels included.”

Vera grinned. “I’ll take your word for it. Also, Foggy will be there with Karen. I’m sure we can make it through.”

“Me too.”

She did not want to yawn. She really didn’t. She kept her mouth shut just in case she didn’t manage to win her fight.

“You’re tired. You had the morning shift. Sorry.”

“I’m glad you called, Matt. I missed y-” _your voice_ “-you. In every way possible,” she confessed, realizing she truly had.

“I miss you too. I can come over if you want-“

“No!” she blurted out, startled by the idea of him jumping over the rooftops in the foul weather. “I mean, it’s okay. You need to rest too. And it’s terrible out there. I’ll settle with your voice for tonight.”

She was certain Matt smiled. “You told me you liked it once,” he sounded pleased by it, just like in the hospital.

“Yeah, not my finest moment. I remember it too well.”

“You do? It’s… it’s one of my favourite memories of you,” he opposed her, voice soft.

Her lips formed a smile involuntarily. She wouldn’t expect him to say something like that – it seemed like he wasn’t very comfortable with sharing such a deep feeling. Maybe she was getting under his skin. Her smile widened at the idea. “Well, I _do_ like it.”

“It was an important moment for me - I knew by that time that you would make it through, recover.  And you were very cute that night.”

“Shut up.” Vera felt her cheeks burning and she was grateful he couldn’t see her – sense her, or whatever.

“You’re blushing. It’s lovely,” he guessed anyway and she rolled her eyes. “Good night, Vera.”

“Good night, Matt.”

\---

The package arrived on Wednesday morning (Vera sent her mum a voice mail thanking her like a million times), which was perfect – Terri had the morning shift with her and they planned on attacking the shopping centre in the afternoon. Her friend squeaked when she saw the photo of her future dress.

(“It is amazing! Jeez. Vera. You will look beautiful! If anyone says otherwise I will break his nose. It’s the colour of Matt’s glasses too. That’s so cool!”

“It is?” Vera wondered, studying the picture again. Huh. It actually was.)

Terri arranged a hairdresser appointment for Vera on Wednesday evening. She clicked her tongue when Vera protested against the hairdresser dying her hair – she would handle it by herself, thank you very much. Terri gave up and checked her nails instead, studying them for an eternity, making disapproving sounds, driving Vera crazy. She promised her a professional manicure and pedicure after their little exchange of opinions.

(“What?!”

“Your nails are a mess! Please tell me you would let me to paint them.”

“Hell no!” she protested vehemently. No paint on her nails. And no long nails either. She wasn’t used to it! She would poke her eyes out when putting on her contacts.

“Vera!”

“Nope. Matt would mind.” She thought he would smell it. Even _she_ could. “ _I would mind too_.”

“But-“

“And no long nails either! Not like extra-long, anyway.”

“And what kind of magic do you expect me to do with _this_?!” she complained, gesturing to Vera’s hands.

It offended her – it wasn’t such a disaster, was it? “Magic. Exactly. Because you are a miracle worker.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Terri huffed, but didn’t oppose her anymore.)

Vera managed to switch shifts with Hannah, so everything was going smoothly. It was scary. She was waiting for things going to hell soon. She was somehow hoping it would be before the event and not during it. It was probably a fool’s hope.

(“So, it’s because of a date, huh?” Hannah eyed her suspiciously, when they discussed the Saturday shift.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you plan it on another evening?”

“I couldn’t. It’s a party.”

“She really couldn’t. She’s dating Matt Murdock. He’s a busy man,” Terri exclaimed from behind Vera, voice indifferent, but loud enough to people in two meters radius to hear her. They all snapped their heads in her direction.

Vera decreased slowly until she hid behind the counter completely, out of everyone’s sight except Terri’s and Hannah’s. “No way!”

“Oh yeah-”

“Terri, shut-“

“Okay, I’ll take the afternoon one,” Hannah agreed, examining Vera with newly found _something_.

_“Thank you.”_

“He’s taking her to the Landman and Zack party.”

“THERESA!”

“Holy shit, really?!”)

And that was it. They were entering the shopping centre with only one goal - Terri had offered a wide spectrum of makeup, Nina had granted the jewels. They only had to find the purse, because her old one was shit. Vera was sure it would still ruin her savings. She almost cried when she saw the prices of quality handbags and wanted to leave. Terri grabbed her hand, making her stay and helped her to choose the right colour to match with her shoes. And drew her to lingerie shop again, to buy _a proper bra_. Vera was actually grateful, because she needed to buy the _upper panties_ – Terri popped her eyes when Vera explained – non-dancers never understood. But Terri used the opportunity and bought something nice for Victor. They left late, more or less content (more for their purchase, less for their wallets). Vera was glad she had to Fogwell’s the day before, because she was too beat for the day and she had the appointment at the hairdresser.

It turned out that Terri had a small misunderstanding with the hairdresser and she only had twenty minutes for Vera – she didn’t mind. She saved money, because _Mia_ didn’t wash her hair and just combed it properly before cutting it due the lack of time. Washing them would be a waste of shampoo and time anyway – Vera only wanted to get rid of the split ends. Terri bickered the whole time, but Vera and Mia both ignored it. Vera actually looked for inspiration for the hairstyle for Saturday – but in all catalogues, they were too complicated. She wondered about it for the rest of the evening, falling to sleep uneasily. Just like the night before, she found a text from Matt, ensuring her he had gotten home safe – he didn’t bother with lying to her that he had no scratch though. She passed it with a sigh, not wanting to fight with him. She hoped he would let her know if anything serious happened.

On Thursday, after suffering through one of her worst shifts ever – with both Barbara _and_ Olivia –, Nina took her for the fitting. Vera was astonished by the amount of work the tailor managed in only two days and a half. The dress were tacked completely, some parts even sewed together firmly.

It fit almost perfectly – there were only few adaptations and Eddie offered them to _wait_ for the final work – she reckoned the editing would take about three hours. Vera had nothing better to do really (maybe except baking and dying her hair), so she didn’t mind – Nina agreed hesitantly too, deciding it was easier than coming back to Jersey again. Nina was obviously trustworthy, because Eddie allowed them to pay _after_ returning the dress. For a millionth time, Vera was grateful to her beyond description, since she hadn’t taken so much money with her that day.

Eddie managed to get the work done in two and a half hour. Vera tried the dress on, taking her shoes and purse as well.

“I take it back. You’re a _babe_ in these too. I’ll have to figure something out with your hair. Here,” Nina handed her a suede leather box. Vera shot her a surprised look. “Come on. Open it.”

Vera did. And gasped. _“Proboha.”_

“My mum bought it for my homecoming. It was a little shabby so I got it cleaned up. It would match well, right?”

Vera fought the tears in her eyes. “It’s _beautiful_ ,” she glared at Nina, “Are you sure?”

“Like hell I’m not. May I?” she offered her help with buttoning it up. Vera nodded hesitantly, watching the necklace getting placed on her neck and upper chest. She stared at the woman in the mirror, shocked when her expression changed as well as hers. It _was_ her, no matter how incredible the idea was.

The tailor, who was observing their exchange quietly so far, spoke up. “You, my darling, would be the adornment of the evening. Whoever is taking you, he’s a one lucky bastard.”

Vera looked at her, fingertips tenderly tracing the necklace. Eddie seemed to be satisfied with her work and she had every right.

“Thanks,” Vera breathed out and eyed the woman in the mirror for the last time. “To both of you. It’s incredible.” She didn’t hold the tears anymore. She just let them roll down her face.

“Hush. This reminds me of Maria’s homecoming. Stop crying. Dammit!” Nina’s eyes were watering too, but she fought them bravely and unlike Vera, she succeeded.

“Well, girls, I think it’s time to leave. Strip the dress, _carefully_. Money with returning the dress, from cleaner’s please. And I want a photo of them from the evening. Deal?”

Vera smiled. “Sure thing. Thank you, Mrs. Krzecszczuk,” she said her name without stutter, being proud of herself.

“Wow. It’s Eddie, seriously. But nice work…”

\---

Vera didn’t expect to see Matt before Saturday evening – it was a nice surprise when he showed up in MDDC on Friday around noon, smiling brightly when he noticed her presence (or maybe he just waited for her to notice _him)._

“Matt! Hi!” she greeted him cheerfully, ignoring Olivia who was piercing her with her eyes nosily.

A brilliant smile was his answer, as he didn’t pay any attention to other girls behind the counter. Well, he had a good excuse at least. He could always say he didn’t see them.

“Uhm. I mean, welcome to MDDC. What can I get you?” she offered the acquired phrase and the corners of his lips rose even higher. “The usual? One Americano with no sugar, one latte macchiato with extra sugar and one vanilla latté? Oh, sorry, she prefers the gingerbread one these days, right?”

Now Becky was staring at her too, amazed by their familiarity.

“Exactly. One more order for today though.”

Vera eyebrow shot up unwillingly. “Oh. What that would be?” she asked curiously as she entered the order in the cashbox.

“One green tea, please.” Her head shot up in surprise. He wouldn’t order for her, right? “You don’t have to prepare this one to go. It’s up to you.” So yeah, he would.

She blushed so hard anyone would think she might be feverish. _Professionalism, Vera_. _Get it together_. “Of course. Anything else?”

His head tilted and turned slightly in Olivia’s and Becky’s direction – they were standing aside, speaking softly together. When they noticed they were being watched, they stopped and Olivia started rearranging the dishes in dishwasher. Very subtle.

“Well, there are few more things I’d like from you. But I’m not sure they are on the menu,” he exclaimed with a smug grin and Vera felt her heart sped up like crazy, startled and excited. Her eyes went wide with shock. _What the hell was he doing?_

She heard two gasps and shattering – turning around, she found Olivia hovering over the machine, broken glass all over the floor. Her hand was slowly colouring with blood.

“ _Fuck_ ,” the bitchiest-bitch-to-ever-bitch swore and Vera was taken over by instinct, making her way to the girl she did _not_ like.

“Get it under lukewarm water. _Now_ ,” she gripped her forearm carefully, leading her to the sink, trying to avoid the shards. She set the temperature on a bearable level of cold and examined the wound under the thinnest flow. It didn’t seem too deep, probably wouldn’t need stiches – it would be a bitch to heal though, going across the palm. “Keep it here for a while. Becky, get the first aid kit, please. And the broom with dustpan.”

“ ’K.” Her colleague obeyed and went to Mrs. Walker office. 

Despite Vera’s better judgement, she smiled reassuringly at Olivia. “I’ll just finish the order and take care of it, okay? The mild coldness will reduce the bleeding and wash away possible impurity. It’s not deep. I know it hurts, but that’s actually a good sing. No nerve damage.”

Olivia watched her with her mouth hanging slightly open as Vera squeezed her forearm and returned to Matt. He looked guilty. Slightly. He knew it wasn’t serious.

“Sorry,” he apologized anyway.

Vera rolled her eyes. “She’ll live. See? That’s what you get for eavesdropping…” She touched few buttons and told him the price, getting back to the work mode.

He chuckled quietly. “You’ll never let me live this one down, will you?”

“Nope,” she answered, accenting the P. She took a holder, wrote names on the cups before placing it in there, gluing a sticker on Matt’s as usual. She made her tea to go as well, not wanting the ceramic cup lying around with steaming liquid – the cut was enough, she didn’t need a burned co-worker on the top of that. “Thanks for the tea.”

“I never told you the rest - you didn’t let me finish my order. That was very unprofessional, miss Machackova,” he complained, leaning closer to the counter.

Vera’s calm caused by the drill from college (where they had learned them not to panic when seeing blood and treat the patient with serenity) disappeared and she felt dizzy again. What he was doing was a _shameless_ flirting. On her _workplace_. She played along, leaning in slightly as well.

“Well, Mr. Murdock, I was busy. I’m sorry. But you said the item was not on the menu anyway. Whatever it was, I’m confident it cannot be bought.”

She was proud of herself. She really was, because if there was something she sucked at utterly, it would be being coquettish.

“There are other ways to pay than with money.”

Matt was on his home turf, she could tell. He had it all - but she knew that already. If his charming smile didn’t work, his handsome face wearing a lost puppy look would serve instead. In other cases, he brought the girl to her knees with his cockiness.

Vera raised her chin in a combative gesture, driven by his overweening, facing him from up close. She wouldn’t show how much he threw her off balance (not to the other people at least, she knew he was well-aware of her body reacting to him).

“Keep in mind that not all ways of payment are accepted. And I’m not cheap.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he declared in dangerously rough voice which made her shiver. He stole a small kiss from her frozen lips, grabbed the holder and disappeared from the café.

Blinking, Vera turned around to check on Olivia and Becky. Olivia didn’t seem to be interested in her injury anymore and Becky was standing in the doorway, first aid kit in her hands with her jaw almost reaching the floor.

Vera cleared her throat. “So. How is your hand?”

\---

Vera went to bed early, after stopping by Fogwell’s for a light clean up and work out, dying her hair and washing it repeatedly to get rid of the chemical smell. She didn’t sleep well that night. She dreamed of haughty glares from mannered faces of upper class ladies, grossed out expression of arrogant noblemen, poisonous laugh and illusion shattering as easily as the thinnest glass, stained with blood. She sat up on her bed sharply, gasping for air, her pyjama soaking with sweat.

She ran her hand down her face, squinting into the dim light coming from her phone. It was glowing with a received text – Matt came home from his patrol unusually early. The display read only twenty minutes after midnight. She didn’t feel like sleeping in the slightest, so she picked the phone up and called Matt instead, wanting to make sure he was alright as the message said.

He answered in seconds. “Hey,” his voice greeted her from the speaker, a hint or surprise in it. Vera was still fighting for her breath, not responding immediately. It freaked him out. “Vera? Are you okay? What happened?”

She gulped, working against the lump in her throat. Why was she so scared? It was _ridiculous_. She dreamed _about blood_ before - this was _nothing_.

“Vera!”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m okay. It’s all good.” She didn’t sound convincing, not even to her ears.

She heard rustling on the background. “Vera, where are you?” he demanded, probably picking up his stuff, heading out again. Vera could tell he was startled by her call and her tone. The guilt stung her.

“Matt, I’m alright. Nothing happened. I _swear_.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” The noise on the other end of the line stopped though.

“I know. But it was just a nightmare. I woke up and found your text. Wanted to make sure _you_ are alright.”

Matt let out a relieved sigh as he heard her voice getting stronger. “Of course I am.”

“You’re home early,” she noted, accusing. She didn’t mind him not running around at the moment. But it was suspicious. “Did you get hurt?”

“No. Nothing much happened tonight and I couldn’t hear anything that required my assistance. I can come over if you want me to.”

 _Yes, please_. “No. It’s… I’m glad you’re okay. Stay home, rest. Big things are waiting for us in the evening.” Her throat tightened at the idea. _Relax_.

Nothing but silence followed. Then: “You don’t want to go.”

He didn’t reproach her. It was simply a note. Vera squeezed her eyes shut and mouthed a curse. How the hell did he figure it out?

“That’s not true,” she disproved, traces of honesty in her exclaim. She _did_ want to go. It was just a stage fright.

“You’re freaking out again,” he actually sounded amused now, trying to hide it lamely, “Vera, there’s nothing you have to worry about. There will be _no forks_.”

Vera bit her tongue before she could blurt out _fuck the forks, it about the people!_ , thinking of better way of expressing her fears. “Maybe. A little.”

“A little?” he questioned with scepticism. “I’ll be at your place in few minutes if you want me to.... Prepare your bill and I’ll bring all kinds of currency I can think of.”

Now _that_ was a tempting offer. Except she was gross at the moment. “No need. Keep your savings for the evening.” It took all her strength to force those words out when her whole body and mind screamed otherwise.

“Hm…”

“But maybe you could help me to fall asleep?”

Matt burst out laughing, probably throwing his head back. “What, you want me to tell you a bedtime story or something?”

Vera didn’t respond and laid down on her bed again, placing the phone next to her head. He chuckled several times, the sound pleasant for her ears. She closed her eyes contentedly.

“ _Te amo, querida,”_ he declared in soft voice.

She _could_ understand the first part. A goofy smile settled on her lips. “Miluji tě,” she whispered back.

_“Había una vez una bella joven…”_

\---

Terri was on her Saturday shift, greeting her with stern look. “Had you even slept tonight? Dammit, Vera!”

Vera was weary. Matt’s Spanish echoed in her ears, gentle voice cradling her to sleep even now. She was _beat_. She needed tea. And a lot of sugar. “I am eating cheesecake today. The best we got. Which one is the best?” she asked, ignoring Terri’s question.

Her friend eyed her with sympathy. “You’re a nervous wreck, aren’t you? Oh, honey.” Terri hugged her, seated her at the nearest table, preparing tea and placing a piece of cake in front of her. “Don’t worry. There will be no customers for like another half an hour.  Tell your friend what lies heavy in your mind.”

Vera raised her gaze. “You know _what_.”

“Well, let me tell you, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Not helping.”

“Seriously! You faced a man with a gun at your head. You can handle few snobs,” Terri reassured her with no calming effect.

“Thanks for the mental image.”

Terri huffed. “If you don’t stop brooding I swear I’ll call Murdock to come here and cheer you up,” she threatened, looking deadly serious.

That woke Vera up a little. She examined her friend suspiciously. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have his number.”

Confident smile appeared on Terri’s face. “Oh, _I do_.” She fished out her phone from the pocket of her apron, drawing on in with her finger and showing the display to her.

There was a contact saved as _Vera’s bae_. And the number _was_ Matt’s. Vera sat up straight. “What the hell?”

“Should I call him?”

“NO!” Vera swept the phone away from Terri’s hand, closing the window in it. “How the hell did you get it?  … No, you know what? Don’t answer.” She took a determined sip of her tea and ate the cheesecake in record time.

“That’s the spirit.”

“You bet your ass it is.”

They managed their shift without any catastrophes, heading to Vera’s place right after, stopping by Nina’s apartment first.

“Good to see you again, Mrs. Larkin,” Terri offered politely and Nina rolled her eyes.

“Same here, Terri. Glad to meet you under better circumstances than the last time.” Vera tried to remember when they had met before. She realized the only possible situation was connected to her kidnapping. Yeah. Okay. “And it’s Nina, you know.”

“Thank you, _Nina_. Shall we go upstairs?”

Nina waved with a bag full of _something_ and smiled widely. “Ready when you are.”

Vera was actually getting worried. Nina’s bag with supplies for hairdressing was smaller than Terri’s for make-up.

At the end, it was a nice afternoon; Vera managed to fall asleep at some point. She was woken up by the hand in her hair. She blinked in surprise.

“I feel like the girl from The Princess Diaries,” she exclaimed while Nina went through her hair carefully, trying not to pull them too hard and Terri held her hand, using a tool Vera haven’t seen before. Both of them laughed.

“Well, you could be a princess. You’re more The Sleeping Beauty, but you should check out your ancestors. You never know…” Terri noted with a wide grin and took her other hand.

“The dress suits you, that’s for sure. Next time we’re going for the crown.”

“You’re both so funny…”

\---

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Vera asked them suspiciously as they examined her with thoughtful expressions.

Their work was done – they helped her with dressing up, Nina did her hair, Terri took care of the make-up (promising she would use only as much as necessary), fine-tuned things Vera wouldn’t think of (Terri prepared a special first aid kit for fixing her precious work) and now Vera was standing in front of them, letting them evaluate the outcome.

She whined. “Seriously. What?!”

Terri obviously found her nervousness hilarious. “You can’t go out like this.”

Vera’s eyes popped and she paced to the mirror in her bedroom, afraid of what she would see. She blinked in surprise.

It wasn’t _bad_. She might even call the girl – or more a woman – attractive. Vera knew how the dress and jewellery looked at her, she was ready for it. What caught her of guard was the delicate touch of make-up on her face (when they used cosmetics for their dancing competitions, it was always very striking since it had to be visible to the jury in the dim light and moving spotlights), not distinctive despite the shade of the lipstick. Her hair were combed up a little, strands curled slightly falling loose around her shoulders and back.

She frowned at her reflection and turned to Terri and Nina, who had followed her to her room with matching impish grins. “ _Why_ I can’t go out like this?”

“Because you might cause a car accident if some driver spots you. Every single man on the benefit will envy Matt, trust me,” Terri told her in a serious voice. ”Now, drink up some juice, because the last time you ate was two hours ago and it was a banana-”

”There are butterflies in my stomach!” Vera defended herself. It wasn’t her fault!

“-which is why you have to at least _drink_ some sugar. I brought you a straw so you wouldn’t mess up your lipstick.”

Vera was impressed. “Thank you. Both of you. You are wonderful. I can believe I’m saying this, but I think I won’t be sticking out as a loser. I have no idea how to repay you.” She obediently drank a glass of juice and eyed her watch. It was six o’clock.

“Oh, you _will_ stick out, that’s our point,” Nina opposed her and started putting away her gear. “Oh, one more thing!” She found a small blue clasp and shoved it to Vera’s hair. Vera let her, but had no idea why she did so.

“Why did you do that?”

Terri burst out laughing. “That’s gold. She’s not getting married, Nina,” she protested, delighted.

What?

Oh.

Vera wore a _new_ dress, her _old_ shoes (or she would, once she entered the right building), _borrowed_ a necklace and earrings and now she had a _blue_ clasp in her hair. She smiled at Nina gratefully. “It’s sweet anyway. Thanks.”

Nina just nodded and returned to her work. Terri packed as well.

Vera quickly used the bathroom and put on her coat, making sure she had a bag with her shoes and purse. She took a deep breath. “I am not ready for this.”

Terri smacked her arm lightly. “Hush, Mechy. Enjoy it. I expect a full report from you. And pictures or it didn’t happen.”

“Of course you do.”

Vera walked out of her apartment, making sure she stepped out with her right foot. She looked over her shoulder last time and headed down to the hall so she could wait for the arrival of the taxi.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, _please_ correct my errors in Spanish (it should be beginning of a fairy tale...?). In case the _querida_ addressing feels familiar, I’m turning myself in willingly. I loved The Mediator series and remembered them recently, so… 
> 
> Alternative title – Girly chapter no.2
> 
> Necklace:  
> http://uniquecostumejewelry.com/chunky-ruby-red-aurora-borealis-ab-crystal-bridal-prom-homecoming-wedding-special-occasion-crystal-necklace-set-elegant-costume-jewelry
> 
> Title from Rhodes - Run


	22. 18)  I’m not the same anymore…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, blow me, Matt! Also, enjoy your minutes in heaven – you have the two most beautiful women of the evening by your side.”  
> “I know I do. I can taste your jealousy in the air.”  
> “How does it taste?”  
> “Rotten… You rolled your eyes at me, didn’t you, Foggy?”  
> “Let me guess, you heard that?”  
> “You bet I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important note!!!** In this chapter, there will be one scene where Czech alternate with English – I decided that instead of translating it later, I’ll write it in English as well. The “Czech” parts are underlined= > Speaking Czech  
> Because _language barrier ♥_.

It only took few minutes for her phone to ring. She could hear the car parking in front of the building, followed by the door closing and hurried footsteps. Before she could open, the buzzing sound made it instead. Vera rolled her eyes – Nina and Terri were probably watching the street from the window.

A familiar face appeared in the door – just not the one she had expected. The person wore a goofy grin on his slightly chubby face and had too long and too _blond_ hair. Vera recognized Matt’s best friend. Foggy.

He observed her cautiously, before his eyes widened with recognition. “I’m sorry, I’m here to pick up someone named Veronica Machackova?” he offered in a light voice, letting the door close behind him.

The corners of her lip twitched. “That would be me.”

He gasped in pretended shock, his hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Not possible. There is no way Matt scored such a beautiful lady as his date. Damn you, Murdock!”

“That’s probably the most original compliment I’ve ever heard. Thank you, Mr. Nelson.”

Vera knew he was just being a comedian, but it cheered her up anyway. His smile widened and he extended his hand. She took it.

“It’s Foggy. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you officially, Vera.” To her surprise, he hadn’t shaken her hand – he kissed it on its back. She would blush if anyone saw them. She was glad the hallway was empty.

“ _Enchanté_.”

“Smooth. He told me you would be nervous, so I would have to be nice, you know. He’s a freaking liar,” he complained, let go of her hand an offered her his arm.

“Maybe I’m just a good actress.”

His expression darkened as they stepped out. “Well, keep it up. Otherwise they are going to shark-attack us.”

“That’s reassuring,” she noted and she would swear his face paled. She liked the comedian better. “We can try not to splash too much. I heard it attracts them.”

Foggy gave her the weirdest glare and then chuckled. “I take it back. You’re _definitely_ Matt’s girlfriend.”

Vera had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t sound too offensive, so she let it slide. Foggy led her to the taxi, opening the backdoor for her. “Thank you.”

She got in, finding Karen and Matt on the backseat as well – Foggy headed to the front.

“Hey, Vera. Good to see you again!” Karen welcomed her cheerfully and Vera spent precious moments observing her – Vera couldn’t see her dress, because of her coat and Matt blocking Vera’s view, but her hair was tangled together in a complicated chignon, few spreads hanging from it loosely. Her make-up was a little more distinctive than Vera’s, but still discreet. It calmed her down.

“Hi, Karen.”

She finally paid enough attention to the man sitting by her side now. She was disappointed he was wearing his glasses, yet his presence comforted her more than Foggy’s jokes and Karen’s warmth. Content smile was playing on his lips as she leaned closer to his side, squeezing his hand resting in his lap rather than kissing him. She was sure her red lipstick would not look good on his cheek or lips.

“Hi, Matt,” she whispered, uselessly only inches from his ear, knowing he would probably hear her blocks away.

Matt turned his face to her, placing a small kiss next to her mouth, tucking one of her loose strands behind her ear tenderly. Her heart fluttered and she caressed his nose with his – that she could do.

“ _Oh god_ , you’re gross. Stop it!” A voice from the passenger seat groaned, sounding outraged.

Before Vera could react, Matt delivered one of her favourite lines, not bothering to move. _“Shut up.”_ Vera grinned. “And cover your eyes if you have a problem. I am gathering my strength to fight the sharks.”

Karen burst out laughing and Vera wondered what kind of a hidden joke they had. It probably went a way back. It might be the reason Foggy had told her she _was_ Matt’s girlfriend, after reacting for his shark line earlier.

“I hope he wasn’t rude,” Matt whispered as if accidently loud enough for Foggy to hear. It wasn’t like Matt didn’t know exactly how their encounter had gone.

“Oh, blow me, Matt! Also, enjoy your minutes in heaven – you have the two most beautiful women of the evening by your side.”

Vera withdrew, her cheeks reddening at his exclaim. Karen watched Foggy with kind expression.

“I know I do. I can taste your jealousy in the air.”

“How does it taste?” Karen mocked him, while Vera wondered whether he really could somehow sense jealousy.

“Rotten…. You rolled your eyes at me, didn’t you, Foggy?”

“Let me guess, you heard that?” Foggy guessed.

Did Karen know about _Mike_ as well? Because if she didn’t, Vera had no idea how they kept the secret from her if they were being so subtle all the time.

“You bet I did.”

 _“Did you?”_ Vera asked silently for Matt’s ears only.

He kissed her earlobe to cover his answer. The action made her shiver. _“No.”_

“I’m serious, Murdock! Stop harassing her!”

The ride wasn’t short, but it felt like it was – they had a great time. Matt and Foggy kept telling the stories about how they used to sneak up on fancy parties like this one – both women roared with laughter. The driver must have been really happy when they get out of his vehicle, because he left with the motor roaring as he revved it up.

Vera’s mood drastically changed as they stood in front of the shiny house with a _red carpet_ , leading them to the stairs. Matt, hearing the change in her heartbeat from delighted to terrified, offered his arm. Despite not being sure who would be leading who, she accepted it gratefully.

“Thanks,” she breathed out, walking him to the stairs. Both pairs entered an enormous hall, already filled with people in night dress and expensive suits. Vera gulped. It wasn’t too late to escape, was it? Matt’s other hand gripped her forearm, sensing her fleeing tendencies.

He bowed his head to hers. “I promised to keep you safe.”

“And I promised not to embarrass you and I’m one hundred _and_ ninety nine percent sure I’ll fail,” she hissed back, but followed Foggy and Karen to the cloak room.

Vera changed her shoes, while Foggy watched her with raised eyebrow.

“It’s dancing latin shoes, Foggy. They can’t be worn outside – it would ruin them,” Karen hurried to defend Vera and Vera gave her a grateful smile.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I guess I just have to believe you.” He shook his head in confusion as Vera stood up and handed her coat and the bag with her high boots the attendant with thanks.

Vera eyed Karen’s dress, satisfied she wasn’t wearing a long one either, but ending shortly above her knees. It was quite simple, navy blue, elegant though - with heart-shaped neckline and transparent fabric covered in jewels reaching to her throat. On her waist, it was decorated with jewels folded into flowers.

Foggy kept flickering between Vera and Karen as if he couldn’t decide who he should pay a compliment first. “Matt? We _are_ the luckiest men on Earth,” he solved his puzzle smoothly and Vera felt Matt’s sightless gaze burning through her.

Eyes sunk to the floor, she approached him slowly, taking his hand. She looked around quickly before leading it from the top of her dress along her side, letting him feel the fabric and make his image of it, even though she anticipated he would know better once he felt and heard her moving in it.

“It’s…uhm, it’s red. Like very d-dark red,” she faltered as she guided his fingers to her necklace. His free hand returned to examining the dress with the lightest touch.

Vera hesitantly raised her eyes (on her heels, she was almost as tall as him), meeting his smile. With his glasses, it was harder to read his emotions, but she could tell he liked the way she looked. He placed a tender kiss to her hair.

“You look _glorious,_ ” he breathed out and she closed her eyes contentedly, astonished by his admiration. She knew Foggy and Karen watched them, but this time, Foggy kept his sarcastic notes for himself. Vera appreciated it.

“Shall we?” Foggy offered and broke their moment. Vera snapped her eyes open and accepted Matt’s arm again. She followed them upstairs, where a hostess in a plain but expensively looking suit welcomed them.

“Good evening. May I ask your names, please?” she asked politely, a wide smile on her face.

Vera felt butterflies in her stomach again – she didn’t like the formality. It felt like _she_ was trying to sneak up to a fancy party in secret and got caught.

Matt didn’t seem to be caught off guard. “Good evening. Nelson and Murdock, please, in company of two lovely ladies,” he flashed the hostess one of his charming smiles and Vera could tell it made the woman dizzy.

 _Aha!_ That’s how Vera probably looked when captivated by his enchantment.

Vera saw Foggy roll his eyes and she bit her lip to fight a laugh. Karen didn’t seem to notice anything.

“Of-of course,” the woman stuttered, quickly going through the papers on her folder. She made two check sings in it and directed them into the huge ballroom. “The bar is right there, please do not hesitate to order anything. Waiters are serving sparkling wine, you would definitely meet them. Enjoy your evening.”

“ _Thank you_.”

The hostess was blushing, gesturing widely and Vera gripped Matt’s arm tighter, begging him to leave before she could burst out laughing. “You’re so mean. You could have given her a heart attack.”

He kissed her hair again. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m saving that privilege for you.” Her heart obediently jumped at his words, rush of blood colouring her cheeks. “ _Exactly_.”

Vera observed the room in awe. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been to a ball before. Some of them were in very fancy halls with enormous chandeliers and excessive decorations too, but _this_? The stage, bigger than the atrium where her high school prom had taken place, musicians with shiny instruments, classical music filling the room, combined with the gleam of luxury jewels, night dresses costing more than her apartment (not her rent – _her apartment_ ), artificial laugh echoing in her ears. She wanted to run away all over again. She glued to Matt’s side so she wouldn’t leave.

“Oooh, Brett. What a wonderful surprise!” she heard Foggy’s delighted shout and looked around once more. They were few officers, walking around the edges of the room and Foggy spotted his friend. Vera couldn’t help smiling when the officer turned around and rolled his eyes.

“Nelson,” he didn’t sound like he felt the same about their encounter.

“Sergeant,” Vera greeted him and he seemed to notice her for the first time, standing by Matt’s side.

“Murdock. Miss Page,… Miss Machackova,” he added when he recognized her. Her smile widened. “Well, that explains everything.”

Vera’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily, just like Matt’s and Karen’s. It was Matt who asked him about it. “What do you mean, Sergeant?”

He rolled his eyes again and gestured in Vera’s direction. “She’s friends with Nelson. Of course she’s getting in trouble on a daily basis.”

It insulted Vera. She wasn’t getting in trouble _on a daily basis_. In fact, she had managed to stay out of it for a while now. Also, not Foggy’s fault. “We’ve officially met about an hour ago,” she defended him.

“Then the fate planned to cross your ways for a long time. Have a nice evening. If you excuse me…” He made his way through the crowd.

“I thought you were friends…?” Vera asked uncertainly, eyeing Foggy.

He grinned. “More like frenemies.”

Huh.

The delight of their encounter gone, Vera noticed her surroundings. People were looking at them. No, probing, measuring them from head to toe, measuring _her_ with their haughty gazes, just like in her dream.

 _Do not flee_. _Do not let them see how nervous you are._

“I would appreciate a glass right now,” she admitted quietly, anxious, and Matt’s hand moved to her smaller back, stroking lightly.

“Whatever you want. We had to take one for the toast anyway. The big speech is ahead,” Matt’s soothing voice whispered to her ear, lips touching it inconspicuously.

Vera suspected it didn’t matter how much wine she would drink tonight – she would be intoxicated rather by his proximity than the alcohol. Maybe it was the dress (providing her unusual level of confidence), maybe it was his suit with the bowtie and the glasses she had thought she hated. It might be the words he had said last night ( _prepare your bill and I’ll bring all kinds of currency I can think of…_ ), his _freaking_ Spanish, the flirting in the café. Maybe he was just being suggestive more than ever to distract her and chase away her fears. Whatever it was, it _worked_ and it made her feel _legless_.

Vera accepted the glass from the nearest waiter with a polite and grateful smile, taking one for Matt as well.

The music stopped and the jingling sound of metal hitting the glass lightly echoed in the room. All conversations fell silent. A middle-aged man, introducing himself as one of the partner in the firm, demanded everyone’s attention and started talking in big words (Vera didn’t think they went together in the right way, he was just trying to impress people at any cost). She was barely listening though – Matt was playing with the hem of her dress, fingers occasionally tracing her thigh (she had no idea how he managed to do that unnoticed and where the hell did he put his cane) and it was _very_ distracting.

Loud _cheers_ in unison sounded all around her and she quickly raised her glass too. She didn’t remember _shit_ from the speech. _“Dammit, Matt!”_

Vera didn’t have to look at him – she knew he was grinning innocently all the same without doing so. “What?”

She drank the half of the glass, took his arm and led him to one of the round high tables near the bar. They lost Foggy and Karen somewhere on their way, but she didn’t really care. What she _did_ care about were the constant looks in her direction.

“Stop doing that,” she hissed, screaming ‘ _do not stop’_ internally. “I appreciate you effort to distract me, but-“

He felt the table and put his glass down as Vera did the same. He was frowning now. “What are you talking about?” He seemed honestly confused; Vera frowned at him too.

“Your… everything. The touches. The whispers. I-“

His lips parted, surprised gasp leaving them. “You think- you think I’m trying to distract you?” he asked her, taken aback.

“Aren’t you?” She was baffled too. Great.

He _licked his lips_ unconsciously and she looked at the ceiling, pleading god to give her strength so she wouldn’t kiss him right here and now.

“Vera, believe me. I am _not_.” He rubbed his eyes under the glasses before he continued and she felt sorry for not seeing them. “Did it occur to you, that maybe… just _maybe_ I am very, _very_ well-aware of how beautiful you are tonight? That I-“ he didn’t finished whatever he was about to say and gritted his teeth.

“No to mě poser,” a shocked voice blurted out and Vera snapped her head in its direction on instinct. She wasn’t used to hearing Czech anymore, not really. She squinted, observing the man who made his way to them. She _knew_ him.

“Alex?!” she let out in disbelief, knowing it was indeed him as he approached their table with an astonished expression. She realized her mouth was hanging open, so she closed it.

“I did _not_ see that coming,” he exclaimed and Vera let out a mixture of a gasp and laugher.

“Can’t say I did,” she admitted, too shocked to avoid his hug and kiss on her cheek.

In periphery, she saw Matt gripping the table tight. Oh. Right. That probably looked bad. She freed herself as fast as she could, clearing her throat.

“Sorry. Matt, this is one of my former dance partners, Alex Srba. Alex, this is my-“ her eyes flickered to Matt and she whispered _boyfriend_ in a silent question – Matt gave a tiny nod “-boyfriend, Matt Murdock.”

Alex’s eyes left her figure unwillingly, his gaze turning to Matt instead. “Oh, I know who he is. Pleasure to meet you. Amazing work with Fisk, really,” he offered politely, smile slightly artificial.

Vera could tell Matt’s smile was _a total fake_. “Thank you, pleasure all mine.” He held out his hand and Alex shook it. For some reason, Alex massaged his hand afterwards, rubbing it like checking whether none of his bones were broken. Uh-huh.

“What are you doing in New York?” he asked her, switching to Czech again. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”  

Vera bit her lip. The whole situation was strange. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see him, but he was giving an odd vibe and Matt probably sensed it too. Well, their relationship was always… peculiar if anything.

“And whose fault is that? I’m not the one who skipped the last three reunions,” she reminded him. She was trying to recall what college he had chosen, because she remembered his excuse had been ‘ _busy, studying’_.  “I live here. Needed to leave some things behind. What are _you_ doing here?”

Alex grinned proudly. “International internship. Landman and Zack.”

Right. He had chosen _law_.  “Oh. Well, congratulation then.”

The music started playing again and sparks appeared in his eyes. “Wanna dance?” He made a funny thing with his eyebrows.

Vera sighed. She did. Alex might be an asshole sometimes, but he cloud dance like a _god_. Which was one of the reasons why ‘ _chicks dug him so badly’_ in his own words.

“The dance floor is empty, Alex,” Vera protested weakly. _It was_. If they came there, they would be _freaks_.

“Exactly. It’s waiting for us.”

Cha-cha, she recognized. It was cha-cha, the song they were playing. She _loved_ cha-cha.

“Uhm…”

“Go, Vera. Show them how it’s done,” Matt supported Alex unexpectedly. She snapped his head in his direction. He was smiling reassuringly despite his jaw clenched tightly. Perhaps he was hoping Alex would disappear if Matt let her dance with her once.

“Hell yes! See? Even he agrees with me.”

“Uh-uh. You’re sure?” she asked Matt and he just nodded. She huffed and left her purse on the table.

“We’re gonna bring this place down,” Alex anticipated as he led her to the dance floor.

“One dance and _just_ because I miss it.” Like miss it _a lot_.

“Two,” he negotiated.

“ _Fine_.”

He confidently walked right into the middle of the dance floor, introducing her to the audience like he was used to. _Oh god_. Everyone was staring. Vera made three spins and let him to take her hand and got closer.

“You’re still in form? How is your limber?”

“I think it’s quite good.”

She thought _screw it._ There was nothing wrong with knowing how to dance properly. She would show them all she got.

“Glad to hear that.”

Since the moment, they only spoke the language universal to any man. The language of dance.

He led her, spun her, let her escape his grip and demonstrate her dancing skills on her own as if he wanted every single person who was watching to know he was proud of his dance partner (it was a significant feature of latin and dancing in general after all). She had _fun_. She recognized pieces of their old choreographies he tried out and a wide smile crawled on her lips - she didn’t fight it, enjoying the music and Alex’s _dancing_ _teasing_. He could be such a comedian. That Alex, she liked.

Vera was actually disappointed when she felt the song coming to an end, eyeing Alex just in case he hadn’t notice. He had. They took several mutual steps and he helped her to get the right spin for the closing turns. Out of habit, they bowed slightly as the last tones faded away.

She realized the room fell in a complete silence. She peaked from under her eyelashes, only to find _a lot_ of people staring at them, sometimes with their mouth hanging open. _Ups_. Flash of a camera. She blushed furiously and returned her gaze to the floor.

“Alex?” she whined in a quiet voice without raising her head.

“Come here, you little idiot.” She gulped, taking few steps in his direction, raising her eyes. He was grinning widely, returning people’s gazes with confidence. “Shall we get ready for the second round?”

The silence was finally broken by the first notes of another piece and Vera breathed out in relief. “Well, that was awkward.”

She found Matt in the crowd. She couldn’t see his expression, but she noticed Foggy and Karen by his side, gesturing wildly.

They left to the edge of the dance floor as they recognized the next dance - it was a rapid change. Slow tones of waltz floated in the air and several pairs joined them. _Bless them_.

“You’re kidding? We rock.”

He pulled her close to the position for the beginning of standard dances, waited for the new phrase and stepped up in her space, starting with the small spin.

Vera just sighed, wondering how bad the outcome of their actions would be.

“So, how is David?” he asked suddenly, making an attempt at a conversation.

She almost tripped over her own feet when he mentioned her ex-boyfriend.

“I have no idea,” she answered truthfully.

“Not together anymore?”

She liked the silence between them better. “Well, I am in New York and I introduced you to my _boyfriend_ just minutes ago, so what do you think?”

“Hm. What’s up with you two anyway?”

“We’re dating.”

Vera didn’t feel good about this. The fact no one could understand them, including Matt, was uncomfortable. Matt was probably listening to their conversation – when she found him again, now seeing him better since they danced in his direction, his face was _frustrated_. Foggy and Karen weren’t with him anymore.

“No shit, Sherlock. But why? He can’t even appreciate how amazing you look tonight. These dress… wow. You’re a stunner. You’re getting better with age, like wine. And only put on just slightly on the very right places…” His hand slid lower than it should. She drew it back where it belonged. That was _rude_.

“He appreciates me enough,” she cut him off, desperately wishing for him to shut up.

“Guess his hands are intact. He uses them a lot with you, huh?” No, not rude. He was being _vulgar_.  “Still, Verčo… he’s blind. You can do so much better.” 

“He _sees_ me better than anyone.”

Alex didn’t say a word for a while, making several combinations they knew from their early years. Along the way, he managed to sneak his hand _under_ the dress, touching her inner tight.

Vera gritted her teeth. _“Alex,”_ she strained through them and he rolled his eyes. His hand disappeared though.

“Is it about the money? … No, can’t be. N&M are charity. Is he so good in bed that it’s worth it?”

_That’s it._ He was talking bullshit, knowing he could, because no one would make out a thing of his words. She did not want to continue this conversation. And she _fucking_ wanted him to keep his hands in check, dammit!

“He has many qualities. He’s smart. Funny. _Attractive_. Gentle…” …Bad-ass… “… _Tactful_ \- he wouldn’t insult anyone’s date for one. Or boyfriend for that matter. And it’s none of your business.”

“…why are you speaking English?” Alex asked her in Czech, absolutely baffled.

“Because I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” she spitted out and gave the audience a lovely smile, when Alex opened their hold and she had to tilt back a little. _God_ , she was glad they didn’t dance tango. On the other hand, there were definitely some sparks between them now. Passion. Not the good kind though.

“Like what?”

“Like we are having a pleasant conversation, when in fact you’re being an-“ _do not swear, people may hear you and you’re here with Matt, do not disgrace him even more_ \- “jerk.”

She swished her leg with elegance, but with enough strength to knock out his teeth if she aimed it just a little more to the left. The pair closest to them quickly made a spin to get out of her reach. _Sorry._

“That’s some passion you have in there. I always saw it in you. Too bad you were taken and stubborn.”

He couldn’t take the hint. He simply couldn’t, could he?

“Yeah. That hasn’t changed. I am still taken. And I prefer the word _faithful_ to _stubborn_.” Or both at the same time.

“Come on. We’ll have some fun. He won’t even notice if we disappear. He probably wouldn’t notice anyway since-“

“I am leaving.” Vera stepped back – he let her go, not expecting it - and turned on her heels. He grabbed her hand and spun her close again.

“It’s not polite to leave during an unfinished dance,” he said in an arrogant voice. Vainly jerking from his grip, her anger reached to an unbearable level. She let it out.

“ _I’m sorry, Matt_ ,” she whispered very quietly, knowing he would hear her.

Her slap echoed in the room and few people dancing in their proximity shot them a shocked look. “How about that, Alex? How is that agreeing with the etiquette?”

He touched his cheek lightly, gaze flicking to his fingers after – like checking for blood. _Idiot_.  “I like when the girl is wild,” he exclaimed, smugness appearing on his face again.

“So does Matt.” Not that she would know, but she _wasn’t_ going to tell _that_ to Alex.  “Say something like this again, _touch_ me like this and I’ll bury my knee in your balls. I happen to know you need them quite often.” She wanted to leave, but he still held her forearm.

“Ver-”

“Let go of me, or _I swear_ -” she growled at him

A hand appeared on his forearm as well. “You heard the lady. Let her go.”

Vera glared at the newcomer, surprised. It was Foggy. And his expression was murderous. Gone was his goofy grin.

Alex was obviously torn, looking around himself – several pairs stopped their dance, watching their exchange. He let go and held his hand high in a defensive gesture. “Letting go.” Then he smiled wryly. “Offer still stands though.”

Vera bit her tongue to stop herself from yelling, which would be _very_ _inappropriate_ no matter what language she would use. She also fought the urge to kick him in his balls for _real_ –but there was a red print of her hand forming on his cheek (which _wow,_ she had used her left hand, she wouldn’t expect it work _that_ well) and that was satisfying enough. She rather accepted the arm Foggy offered and let him lead her from the dance floor. She noticed Karen standing aside – they had been probably dancing earlier as well.

“Thank you, Foggy.”

Foggy eyed her, full of admiration. “It was a fabulous slap. Seriously. It would win a medal in the Olympics, you know, if there was a slapping competition or something like that…” His face brightened gradually as he spoke. He was cute.

“YAY for me. But thank you, Foggy. Really. You saved me.”

He grinned brilliantly when she _yayed_. “Sir Foggy Nelson, knight in shining armour for hire. At your service.” He gave a tiny bow. Vera laughed. ”Now, I’ll deliver you to the man of your heart if you let me.”

“I do not wish for more, Sir Nelson.”

Karen didn’t join them, waiting for the return of her dance partner. Foggy led Vera through the small groups of people, who were giving them the strangest looks. Vera mentally counted to ten and back. It didn’t help. They reached their table still guarded by Matt’s stiff figure. Vera couldn’t read any emotion in his face.

“Here we go. There are other issues demanding my attention. Would it be all right if I leave you alone with this man, my lady? Do you feel safe in his presence?” Foggy kept his act and Vera hoped it would change Matt’s blank expression.

It didn’t.

She sighed. “Of course, Sir Nelson. There is no place I feel better and safer than by his side,” she claimed in a serious voice, eyeing him peripherally, “only in his arms.”

Foggy walked backwards with another bow and disappeared. Smiling, she turned her attention to Matt completely. It was not a nice picture to look at.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly the most pleasant dance I’ve ever had.”

“Wasn’t it?” he deadpanned and Vera _really_ looked at him.

His face was pale, lips pressed in a thin line. Tense posture. Clenched fists. She knew that expression well – except this time, it wasn’t the mask hiding the hard glare of his eyes – it was the glasses. It didn’t matter. She could tell he was pissed off. Royally.

It made her feel miserable. And guilty. “Of course _it wasn’t_. I think it even made it the worst five and that’s saying something.”

His body broke into motion. His movements were sluggish, seeming it took a lot of effort to do so. He faced her, raised his hand and placed it on her back like getting ready to dance too. She leaned into it subconsciously. Yet, she didn’t understand.

Then his hand slid lower, agonizingly slowly, stopping at her bottom. There was nothing romantic or seductive about it. It wasn’t _his_ gesture. He was repeating Alex’s action. Vera squeezed her eyes shut, standing straight again, removing his hand.

“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming. He was sleeping with the half of our group. I was one of the rare people who didn’t fall for his… whatever. He stopped trying after a while. I’m sorry,” she repeated, examining his face, searching for any sign of forgiveness. With no success. “I was really hoping you missed that part of his inappropriate behaviour, there were people around us by the ti-”

“It’s burned into your skin like a brand,” he said in cold voice and Vera swallowed against the lump growing in her throat. _Burned like a brand_. She shivered at the idea in attempt to shake off the feeling of impurity.

“How-how do I wipe it away?” she asked, afraid of his reaction. She felt like a schoolgirl being chewed for having her homework eaten by her dog though - it wasn’t her fault only.

Matt sighed, helpless laugh escaping his lips. “You can’t.”

“Okay,” she mouthed, not sure he heard her or whether she even wanted him to. She blinked against the tears in her eyes. _Dammit_. She needed to go to the bathroom. She couldn’t cry here. She took her purse. “Excuse me for a min-“

Matt’s hand shot out, grabbing her forearm, pulling her in his arms, hiding her from the world. He buried his face in her hair. “Sorry. I didn’t want to- I didn’t mean to upset you more than you already were. I am not mad at _you_. I am mad at _him_. It’s just… _hard_.” He inhaled deeply and she wondered if her dance partner left traces Matt could smell as well.

She sobbed with no sound, breathing in _his_ scent. He was using unobtrusive cologne – any distinctive smell would probably bother him - but up close, she would notice the light tones of santal wood mixing with his personal scent. It comforted her at least a little, allowing her to think more clearly, realizing things – like people around them staring, most likely.

“Can you replace it?” she asked him and carefully freed herself from his hug.

He blinked in surprise. “What?”

“The smell. The imprints. The _brands_. Whatever. Can you replace it? … With yours?”

His posture relaxed, hint of a smile creeping to his lips. His fingers traced the lines of her jaw gently, wiping away a few tears that had escaped her eyes. Vera felt like the sun came out again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Karen’s dress:  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/07/09/48/0709484bc59f86db1d97e0090c1c5099--sexy-homecoming-dresses-prom-party-dresses.jpg
> 
> Best damn avocados in law and the memory of the sharks (♥).  
> I miss Brett.
> 
> And the latin shoe note is actually true. It’s a bitch, because you have to always wear them with you in extra bag though.  
> I have never done group-pair dancing (or whatever it’s called), but I know it’s a thing. 
> 
> Also, language barrier. Kill me now.
> 
> Title from Rhodes - Somebody


	23. 19)  …maybe we’ve come too far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, this guy? Came around a half an hour ago. Hasn’t moved since. … Oh. It’s you. Nice strike, if I can comment…”  
> “Oh my god. You saw it too?”  
> “Nope. Just heard about it. He has a handprint on his face though. I gave him the ice.”  
> “Yeah, I’m a slugger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : Take your insulin shot before reading this one. Also, it's freaking long...

Vera had nothing better to do than observing people dancing – or attempting to. There were several pairs who managed to match the dance with the style of the song correctly, but mostly they just swung in the rhythm – well…  they tried to. Some people just didn’t have the music in them. She was sure they had other qualities.

An extraordinary female singer had joined the musicians a while ago. Vera could tell she was extremely talented, because even Matt seemed to enjoy her vocals and that meant _something_. The storm seemed to sweep over and an easy smile played on his lips as he was standing behind her, her hands in his, thumbs stroking the back of them. He watched people in his own way too.

From time to time, a person showed up to introduce himself and express respect to Matt Murdock – Vera blushed every time a man kissed the back of her hand, smiling contentedly when she found Matt’s arm around her waist pulling her closer – saying ‘ _this one is mine, compliment her all you want, but otherwise hands off’_.

“ _Yours_ ,” she whispered to his ear after one particularly impudent manager (who believed the world belonged to him, since he could buy almost anything) had kept her hand for too long, sliding his gaze over her figure shamelessly.

Matt let out an approximation of a growl sounding like _mine_ and his fingers travelled down her spine delicately, leaving _his_ brand on her bottom then.

Foggy spent about twenty minutes with Karen on the dance floor, before they crawled to them, demanding a drink. They all moved to the bar – Vera noticed a guy holding a dishtowel filled with something on his cheek. She chuckled when she realized who he was.

“What?” Foggy queried and Vera beckoned in Alex’s direction.

Foggy snorted. “Guess you weren’t the only one who decided he needed to be directed…”

The barista preparing their drinks followed their conversation. “Oh, this guy? Came around a half an hour ago. Hasn’t moved since.” He looked at Vera and his eyes went wide. “Oh. It’s you. Nice strike if I can comment…”

Vera froze when she realized _a bartender_ had seen her exchange with Alex _. “Oh my god,”_ she whined and hid her face in her hands. “You saw it, too?”

“Nope. Just heard about it. He has a handprint on his face though. I gave him the ice.”

“Yeah, I’m a slugger,” she muttered to her palms, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Matt, I didn’t want to cause a scene. I told you I would m-”

He took her forearms gently, drawing them away. “No need to apologize. You protected your honour when I couldn’t. I am actually very proud. Also you’re the cutest fierce warrior who ever walked the Earth.”

“Guuuys, I’ll get diabetes. Stop it,” Foggy complained and shoved the shots in their direction. “What are we drinking to?”

“Women power?” Karen offered and winked at Vera conspiratorially.

Foggy protested. “No way! I am not drinking to that!”

“Well, drink to whatever you want to, I’ll drink-”

“What about defending? Defending the innocents, people you love, yourself when needed?” Vera proposed and Foggy nodded furiously.

“I can drink to that!”

\---

It was Karen who inspired her to do it. They went to the bathroom together for fixing their make-up and hair and using the bathroom, obviously. Vera was surprised to find out Terri’s work was almost intact by the evening events. Nina’s was a little worse, but that was caused by the spinning and Matt’s obsession with her hair. She had to thank them later anyway. Again.

“He likes you a lot,” Karen spoke up unexpectedly. Vera almost poked her eye with the eyeliner.

What was that supposed to mean?

“I love him,” she answered, looking at her in the next mirror.

Karen hummed in agreement and sighed. “I know. I can see that. It’s… he was really upset earlier. I know it wasn’t your fault, but…. He’s a really, _really_ good guy. Cares about you big time. Just don’t… don’t hurt him, okay?”

Vera turned to face her with realization. “It this a shovel talk?”

Karen turned to her as well, expression serious. “And if it was?”

“Well, then I am glad Matt has such a good friend in you and I promise I would let you punch me if I _did_ hurt him. Which I do not plan on doing. I would punch _myself_ if I did,” she declared and Karen smiled wickedly.

“Oh, I wouldn’t just punch you. They _wouldn’t find your body_. I’m glad it won’t be necessary.”

Vera gulped when she saw Karen’s face – she had delicate features, bright eyes, innocence written in them – but when she threatened Vera, she looked _terrifying_. “Sure.”

Karen returned to powdering her nose. “He’s brooding less since you’re with him. He’s blind – he lives in the dark. It kinda feels like you’re his light. Keep it like this way and we’re good,” she offered, her kind smile returning.

Vera’s mind formed a silly idea. Blame it on the alcohol. “Karen? You’re a genius.”

Karen raised her eyebrow as Vera pulled out a paper tissue and wrote something on it with her eyeliner. “What are you doing?”

“If I told you… I would have to kill you.” She finished her make-up and observed the tissue with satisfaction, not caring Karen probably thought she was crazy. “Can you handle Nelson _and_ Murdock for a while?”

“That’s what I do almost every day. It’s not an easy job. But I like the spark in your eyes. This better be good.”

“Nah. You wouldn’t think so, I guess. It would mean a lot for me though.”

Karen shrugged. “No problem.”

Vera didn’t leave the bathroom with Karen – she waited few minutes and then made her way to the musicians, handing the tissue to the singer who was now resting on the edge of the stage. The woman frowned at her, but accepted her _gift_. She smiled when she read the request though, nodding. Vera mouthed silent _thank you_. Content, she returned to the bar, just in time to see Karen, Foggy and Matt turning another shots bottoms up.

“Wooow, what did I miss?” she asked casually, placing her hand on Matt’d shoulder. He smiled at her, no suspicion on his face.

“A toast to Nelson and Murdock, secretly controlled by Page,” Matt admitted and Vera gasped.

“I would drink to that too!” she didn’t have to pretend to be offended.

“Well, we can get another round…” Foggy offered, but Matt shook his head.

“Without me. Drunkenness and no sight don’t mix well.”

Foggy laughed at the top of his lungs – he already _was_ drunk. “Oh, I tried to get him properly drunk once. You should have seen it. I say let’s do this!”

“Maybe next time,” Vera promised, leaning closer to Matt protectively. 

“My guardian…” Maybe, just maybe, Matt was a little drunk too.

They moved back to the table and Foggy asked Vera to dance – he was a terrible dancer, _drunk_ on the top of that, his feet _did_ tangle several times, but it was nice anyway. Vera was glad Karen gave her the idea which would come true soon, she hoped. There was dancing and _dancing_. In the first case, she needed a capable partner who would lead her right, but let her have her fun. That was Alex, before he had started acting like a jerk. In the second one, all she needed was someone who would make the dance _special_. Foggy did, in his own way.

They returned after two songs, Matt grinning widely, with traces of sadness conscientiously hidden – maybe wondering he couldn’t allow asking her to dance. Which was exactly the reason why she would ask _him_.

When Vera finally recognized the notes of her requested song, she turned to Matt, biting her lip nervously.

Crazily enough, a voice spoke behind her, demanding her attention. “May I have this-“

She freaked out. No. _Nope_. She grabbed Matt’s arm, leaning onto his side. “Oh, Matt. Of course! Let’s go. _Please, play along_ ,” she whispered only for his ears and led him (or was led?) to the dance floor, placing his cane on the table.

He was baffled, but followed her, accepting her little act. “Thanks, sweetheart. _What do you think you’re doing?_ ” Vera looked over her shoulder. Whoever the guy was, he was standing at their table, confused, accompanied by Foggy and Karen who wouldn’t be able to explain. She sighed in relief. “He wasn’t that bad. You could have dance with him.”

“I didn’t want to. I want to dance _with you_.”

They reached the edge and Matt froze. “Vera, I _can’t_ dance,” he protested quietly, not wanting to attract attention. Vain effort. People always watched them.

“Everyone can dance, _Matthew_ ,” she persuaded him, knowing he could listen to her heartbeat and make sure she was telling the truth – or at least saying what she believed in.

He grimaced. “Vera, you’re _a dancer_ -” he whined miserably and she interrupted him, dragging him on the dance floor. She knew he let her – if he made up his mind, she wouldn’t be able to move him an inch. She smiled for herself.

“I don’t want cha-cha, waltz or samba, Matt. I’m talking about _slow dancing_. Please?” She blinked her eyelashes innocently, watching him with hopeful eyes he couldn’t see.

The singer begun with the lyrics and the lights dimmed. Vera knew the exact moment he cracked.

“Yes!” she hissed under her breath and reached for his glasses, the only thing bothering her. “Can I? The lights are mostly out…”

He sighed, but nodded, apparently resigning and being ready to fulfil any of her wishes. She shoved the glasses in his front pocket and showed him the most common hold.

“Just do what I do. Or sense what the others are doing. With the level of your awareness of your body, your coordination and your hearing, it would be the easiest thing in the world,” she promised him as she started to swing and he hesitantly joined her.

He could _feel the rhythm_ , which was already more than Foggy did.

“You’re a natural,” she grinned widely and the corners of his lips twitched.

“Seriously? That’s it? That’s what you want?”

Vera nodded and felt his body relax slightly. His head titled and a puzzled expression appeared on his face.

“What is it?” she asked him and he shook his head.

“Just… the song. It’s good. Familiar.”  She fought the urge to laugh.

“Well, it better be.” He frowned and she could literally hear the wheels in his mind turning. She chuckled.

“You wanted to dance to this song _specifically_ , didn’t you?”

“Did you figure out why?” she asked him curiously and he opened his mouth just to close it again. He didn’t. The punchline was close. “Wait for it…”

She focused on the words and she could tell he did too.

 ** _Lights will guide you home_** __  
And ignite your bones  
And I will try to fix you…

Matt’s face was _gold_. His eyes popped, lips parted, pure confusion mixed with the sudden realization. He seemed to be _moved_. He blinked furiously and let out a silent _oh_.

 _Mission accomplished_.

“I know that— it’s ridiculous-- but that moment? It felt like I saw _you_ for the first time. Saw _your soul_ ,” she tried to explain to him, feeling stupid out of blue for making one song request such a big deal, “the very you, which is kinda ironic, because it was just minutes after I found out that you’re… you know and you told me these words and I couldn’t-“

He stopped her rambling the most effective way he knew. She felt his hands on her face a second before so she knew what he was doing, but it surprised her anyway. He gave her the sweetest kiss so far, one hand moving to the back of her neck, the other finding her waist, pulling her body closer.

“- _think_ ,” she finished as he stopped caressing her lips tenderly and rested his forehead against hers. The lyrics reached her ears and she discovered the song was almost over. With her peripheral vision, she saw several people stare at them. So much for not faux-pauxing. Like, _again_. “Ever heard that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable?”

He pecked her lips again and smiled teasingly. “You don’t seem to be uncomfortable.”

“Well _, I am not_ ,” she admitted and decided that it was all she cared about. Matt readjusted their hold and started swinging again. When the dynamic of music changed slightly, he held her hand high and spun her as if he had done it million times before. “Can’t dance, huh?”

He shrugged and dragged her closer. “Just following the instructions. You’re a good teacher.”

She giggled. “Bet you say that to all the girls… _Oh my god!_ Did you lied to me and I fell for it? Damn!”

He spun her once more as a closure of the song and she ended up in his arms, lips glued to his again. She answered him eagerly.

 _God_ , she didn’t want to see her lipstick aft— their tongues met and she lost the train of her thoughts since she had better things to focus on. Like his fingers grasping her dress or his mouth conquering hers.

She fought for breath when he set her lips free and spoke. “There are no-“

“Sure.” His attack reminded her of the confused conversation they lead until Alex interrupted them, because once again Matt’s distraction skills were excellent – she would easily forget _where_ they were. “What were you telling me before… you know, Alex appeared?”

He didn’t even flinch at his name. He just drew a circle on her hip and smiled slyly. “Oh you mean when I was telling you how beautiful you were?”

Vera nodded, biting her lip. He used his own teeth to liberate it. She gasped silently as he whispered the rest of the sentence into her mouth.

“That I can’t keep my hands off you.”

\---

They stayed for several songs, until the musicians took a break. The singer waved at Vera as she was leaving the dance floor with Matt, who sadly wore his glasses again. As they approached Matt’s friends, Karen held her hand up, expecting a high five. Vera obeyed, clapping her palm against hers.

Foggy raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You planned this?”

Karen laughed. “Of course. Why do you think I had another shots with you two?”

“Damn you. _Women_. Also, really guys? You’re lucky it’s after ten. That was hardly PG-13,” he exclaimed and Vera, wearing a content smile, froze. It was not _that_ bad.

“Oh, _please_ ,” she protested, while Foggy grinned.

“You definitely threw few folks off balance. That deserves a photo,” he stumbled from his chair and Matt caught him before he could meet the floor. “Thanks, buddy.”

“The photo is a great idea, actually. I just need to… uhm… fix my lipstick, I guess…” she offered hesitantly, reaching for her purse.

Karen snorted. “Yeah, that might be a good idea.”

Vera’s eyes went wide with horror. “Excuse me.”

When she entered the bathroom, she was shocked. Not because she looked like a hooker after a make-out session. But because the freaking lipstick was _absolutely_ fine. _“What the hell?”_

She dug up the lipstick from her purse, studying it. When she opened, it a tiny paper fell out. She read the note written on it.

**_Did you really think I would let you wear a lipstick that could be kissed away? When going out with him? Please. T_ **

Vera snorted and fixed the rest of her face and hair at least, rushing back, hoping Foggy hadn’t passed out in the meantime. He hadn’t. They asked some couple to take a picture of them on Vera’s phone. Karen took another picture of Vera alone (for _Eddie_ ) and with Matt (not wearing his glasses, her request). When she looked at the time, she gaped. It wasn’t just after ten – it was after midnight, closer to one a.m. actually. She realized lots of people had already left. Maybe they should too.

“You want to go home,” Matt guessed and she shrugged. She wasn’t tired, not really, but Foggy was _slightly_ inebriated and she had a shift the next day – no, today.  

“I don’t know. Would you like to stay?”

He shook his head. “No need.”

“Okay.”

They called a cab again – for all of them, Foggy winning the front seat (just in case he wanted to throw up), stopping by Vera’s place first. She fought the urge to ask Matt to stay the night, but she had no idea whether he had plans – it hadn’t occured to her to ask earlier. He solved her dilemma when he paid for the taxi (for Foggy and Karen too) and got out of the car as well.

And Vera _so_ wanted to hear his heartbeat, when he explained it to her. “I have to make sure you’ll get to your door in one piece. You drank.”

 _Yeah, so did you_. She was confident it was _a blatant lie_ and she shivered with excitement at the idea, her own heart doing funny things, butterflies in her stomach beating their wings frantically.

Matt walked her to the apartment door, his cane folded ever since the taxi left and there were no curious eyes. She unlocked, stepped in and turned her face to Matt with an unspoken question.

 _Do you want to come in?_ \- and feeling there was another question hidden in the words – _Would you like a cup of coffee?_

She had _no actual coffee_ in her flat.

She wanted him to come in. _Really, really badly._ She cleared her throat. “Would you li-“

“May I?”

 _YES._ Vera didn’t trust her voice, so she just opened the door wider, gesturing. He gave her a small smile and came in. Closing the door with a significant click felt like sealing a deal with a signet. Matt already hanged his coat, glasses in its pocket, untying his shoes when she fought the zipper on her high boots.

She didn’t attempt to do it on purpose. She simply stepped on her shoe rack, opening the zipper on one and then the other boot, because it was _the most comfortable way_. She hadn’t thought about the fact it would expose her leg completely, _honestly hadn’t_. She didn’t realize it until Matt leaned into her space, touching her knee, sliding his fingers higher and _higher_. Her breath hitched.

He squeezed one _particular_ place on her thigh and snarled. The next thing she knew, she was pinned to a wall by his forearm over her chest and shoulders, one hand still pressing to her thigh _exactly_ where Alex had touched her earlier that night. Her fright was quickly replaced by thrilling sensation as Matt rested his head against the wall next to her neck.

“He had _no right_ ,” he strained through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with righteous _anger,_ boiling somewhere in deep, cautiously held in cage but creeping out. He was losing control. The Devil was crawling out of him. And _god_ , she would give anything in exchange of the Devil taking over him. O _ver her_.

The tension she had felt the whole evening, even the night before, it burned with much more intensity – it had been innocently hoarding inside of her for hours and now reached the unbearable level.

“He did not,” she agreed shakily, voice weak. She wanted him. _Oh, how much she wanted him_. His arm was digging into her chest almost painfully – all she felt was the jolts it sent down her spine, making her body tingling.

“Why? Tell me, _why_ he had no right,” he demanded hoarsely, not moving, keeping his hand _agonizingly close_ to where she wanted him to have it.

Was it some kind of a game? Was it a test she had to pass?

“Because…”

He stopped breathing, waiting for her to finish. She didn’t know _how_ though. It was obvious Alex had been vulgar, but what Matt _wanted_ to hear? The greedy touch on her thigh was her only clue. Matt was replacing Alex’s mark with his own. She squeezed her eyes shut, gathering her courage, hoping she was right.

 _“…because I’m yours,”_ she breathed and her words pulled the trigger. She unlocked the cage and let out all his rage. She was _not_ disappointed by it.

His lower body pressed against hers, his hand grabbing her ass, pulling her leg up and wrapping it around his waist. She gasped, but the noise was muted by his lips wedging into hers, sucking hard enough to bruise.

His arm disappeared from her chest, replaced by his torso, fingertips tracing her silhouette under her coat. It must have irritated him, getting in the way of his grabby fingers, because the weight of his body vanished and capable hands stripped it from her shoulders, mouth never leaving hers. Once it was on the floor, he pinned her to the wall again, one hand supporting her bottom, other sliding under her dress.

Her head was spinning, fingers ached with the desire to touch him, but she had no idea whether she was allowed to. He seemed out of his mind.

 _Screw it_. Her hands shot up to his sides, feeling the muscles over his shirt. It was his turn to lose clothes. He was already touching her skin. She slipped under his jacket, pulling it away. He must have agreed with her actions, because his hands stopped their mission, helping her to get rid of the stupid piece of clothing. Vera had almost free access to his chest now – only his shirt in her way. She worked on the buttons, using the opportunity. Firm grip thwarted her plan, chasing her hands away.

His mouth left her lips. “Not your turn,” he admonished her and she obediently let her hands fall to her side, whining at the loss and at the loss of his lips as well.

He kissed her neck instead, biting the most sensitive spots. She threw her head back, gladly offering him better access. Her toes curled in pleasure, fingertips tingled, desiring the contact with his body again. He had been talking only about clothes, right? She tangled her fingers into his hair, keeping him close. His hand slid under her dress once more, fighting its way on her back – skilful fingers opened her bra with no effort.

Panting, she decided it _was_ her turn now. She quickly unbuttoned the shirt, sighing contentedly when her palm touched the skin and the _freaking_ muscles on his chest. He found her nipple, toying with it and she didn’t supress a moan.

_“Matt.”_

His hands clenched into fists, lips left her neck, his head leaning into the wall again. Vera’s mind was clouded, she wouldn’t form a word, but what he did was screaming with something she did _not_ _like_.

He was breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut, painful expression on his face. She thought about everything she had done, trying to recall whether she had passed over some fresh scar, had touched a rib that could have been bruised. How the hell would she know?

“Matt, what-“

He shook his head violently, hand forcing her leg wrapped around his waist to slid down. She involuntarily did so.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” His chest was rising frantically against her palms.

“You shouldn’t have _what_?”

He clenched his jaw and didn’t say a word. She was _horrified_ when she thought of what could he be possibly talking about. He wasn’t in pain. He was fighting the Devil, shoving him back to his cage, locking him away safely.

She did _not want that_. _At all._

“Wrong. You should have,” she protested, hands leaving his chest to hold his face in attempt to turn it to hers. He didn’t move. “Matt, you _should have_.”

He shook his head again. “I was _angry_. It wasn’t right.”

_And fuck you, Matthew!_

“It was very right,” she growled, sounding more like a pissed off puppy, pathetic compared to his scary, commanding and _arousing_ voice. “I wanted you to. I _want_ you to _.”_

“ _Vera_ ,“ he opposed her weakly, whining and Vera felt her chance. Her last chance tonight, most likely.

She had never said it before. Not that she had remembered. She breathed in deeply, gulping, working against the lump in her throat. _Come on_. She could do it. She licked her lips.

“I wanted you _to fuck me_.”

She couldn’t believe the words left her mouth.

He gasped and his fists hit the wall loudly. “ _Jesus Christ_. Vera.” He was on the edge. She was winning. Encouraged, she continued.

“I still do.”

He pushed off from the wall, from _her_ , taking several steps back in the small space of her hall. He ran his fingers through his hair. _“Stop.”_

She was _winning_. She bounced off too, imitating his moves. “I still do, Matt.” She knew she had to push further. “I want you to fuck me into this wall so hard I’ll forget my own name.”

His face was combination of disbelief and desperation, mirroring his inner fight. His Adam’s apple was raising periodically, fists clenching in his hair. _“Christ. Vera._ Shut. Up, _”_ he ordered, but she wouldn’t. Oh no, she would _not_.

“Then _make me_. I don’t care whether you use your tongue or your dick to do-“ _-so_ was left unspoken, as her body was pressed to the wall again, his face inches from hers, heavy breaths tickling her lips. She smiled victoriously, carrying on.

“I’m yours, Matt. _All yours_ and you can take wha-”

She had no chance to finish because he was kissing her fiercely, hand on her throat, dangerously close to strangling her.

Vera returned her leg up, to the place where it belonged, shocked when he supported her bottom and forced her to wrap her other leg around his waist too. She yelped into his mouth when he readjusted his grip and lifted her higher. She squeezed her thighs as strongly as she could, afraid of the fall.

“You have a _very_ _dirty_ mouth,” he growled, holding her weight on only _one_ _arm_ , the other finding its way back to her breasts.

She gasped at the touch, her own hands finally reliving, exploring his bare chest, passing over the buckle of his belt by _pure coincidence_. “And what are you gonna do about it?” she challenged him and he silenced her with another bruising kiss, entering her mouth with his tongue. No dicks. _For now_.

He spooked her when he stepped back and she lost the wall, her one steady support. She held onto his shoulders tight only to find out it was unnecessary – his grip on her ass was firm, his other arm steadying her on her back as he slowly walked further to her apartment.

“Does it have to be the wall?” he breathed between his lunges and she felt she would burn from inside in anticipation. She remembered her words well.

“No,” she mumbled to his lips and he bit hers, continuing his way to the bedroom. “Mattress works too.”

He bended over her bed, laying her down on it. Vera reluctantly loosened her grip, rewarded by his shirt going down. “Good.”

The only lights were coming from the street and her hall, but she saw his torso well enough. She bit her swollen lip, observing that perfection. The scars didn’t ruin it – _oh no_. They were giving him the aura of a warrior running into danger recklessly.  She was drawn to that danger and mysteriousness like to a magnet. She sat up, wanting to be closer to the treasure.

Matt occupied her lips again, palms on her sides sliding under the dress, lifting them up cautiously. It flashed through her mind he _was_ controlling himself now – the man demanding her answers wouldn’t treat a piece of cloth like this. Vaguely realizing that nursing the dress might not be a bad idea, she held her arms up, making his job easier.

The short moment his mouth left hers, he breathed out one word only, barely auditable. _“Gorgeous.”_

The dress flew away together with her bra and their mouths attached again. She had no time to be shy, when he traced her bare shoulders, stopping at the necklace. She quickly lost it, not wanting ti to get in his way. He kissed the place where it lied before.

Her head spun as he pushed her down to the mattress, his lips leaving a path on her body as he moved them lower, passing over her breasts, ribs, navel and lower belly, stopping there. She let out a shaky breath, fingers clutching the sheets. His lips draw a horizontal line along the hem of the nylons and she whined. _Just rip it off dammit!_

He placed another kiss very, _very_ high on her inner thigh and she thought she might explode from the tension in her abdomen.

 _“Matt,”_ she let out in voice she wouldn’t recognize.

It was a warning. It was a threat. It was a _plea_.

She didn’t control her body when he did the same on the other side – her hips rocked up against her will, stopped by the strong hands on them.

“Please, don’t move,” he asked her almost politely and she huffed in despair.

 _“Fuck me and I won’t,”_ she snarled, feeling the pressure inside her becoming unbearable. She was getting _impatient_. She just wanted-

His grasp strengthened at her words, sending the mixture of pain and excitement to every molecule in her body. To her shock, he used the same path his mouth created earlier to get back to her lips, his torso pressing against hers, his knee wedging between her legs – she let him slide there helpfully. He withdrew after few light kisses, playful smile on his lips.

 _“I won’t,”_ he exclaimed confidently and it took Vera’s brain a while to process the information. She gasped violently when it did.

“What?!” she shrieked and she would shoot up into sitting position if his weight didn’t hold her down securely.

_What?! What do you mean you **won’t**?_

His sightless eyed stared into hers, lust leaving them. “I’m not sleeping with you tonight,” he explained patiently, indifferently, like his _very hard dick_ wasn’t pressing against her lap and he hadn’t… been doing what he had been doing.

Vera blinked furiously, silently gaping to his calm face with swollen lips – he had a split there, she was sure it wasn’t there before – was it him or _her_ , who had caused it? Her arousal was fading away, replaced by righteous anger and helplessness.

“You can’t do that!” she hissed into his face and his smile widened. He was fucking laughing at her!

“Do what?”

 _Yeah, tell him what he did._ She opened her mouth and closed it again with no words coming out. _You can’t drive me crazy, make me wish for anything else but-- and then just stop._ She threw her hands in the air desperately, as widely as their _position_ allowed.

“Everything!”

Matt pecked her lips in conciliatory manner. She hated him at that moment. She really did.

Did she?

“Why?” she demanded, irritated but resigned.

His expression was serious. “I meant what I said.” _Well, I did too, no matter how dirty it was. What the hell are you talking about?_ “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow, or any day really, thinking _Matt slept with me for the first time only because he was pissed off and jealous_. I need you to know that _I want you_ ,” he accented the words, kissing her frozen lips with nothing but sad traces of his previous passion, “I want you _a lot_ , and it’s because _you’re gorgeous_ and _I love you_. Not because of some idiot, who thought he could have you, crossed a line. I _need_ you to believe that and that’s why I can’t. Not _now_.”

She hated him, the way he thought, she hated what he was able to do with her and she _couldn’t stand herself_ for the forgiveness beginning to sprout in her shyly. They fell into silence. She didn’t know what to say. He had nothing more to say. He was lying on the top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows slightly, facing her, eyes pleading her to understand. To say _something_.

Vera sighed. _Damn him, his morality and his puppy eyes._

 _“_ Fine _. Fine,_ I get it.”

Matt took her face to his hands, giving her a slow careful kiss. She hesitantly kissed him back, stroking his biceps lightly, feeling his lips spreading into a smile as she did so.

“I love you.. _. Te amo.._. _Miluji tě,_ ” he whispered between the meetings of their lips and her eyes filled with tears at his tenderness and the honesty in his voice. He kissed the tears away, together with her mingled feelings, fondling her lips until _she forgot her own name_ and the idea of loving him and being loved was all she could think of.

He was spoiling her for eternity, her lips too swollen, their bodies tangled so complicatedly she had no idea where she ended and he begun, her mind completely blank, when he suddenly stopped. And seriously, _what now?!_

“I love you,” he repeated for the millionth time, the three words most frequent from his recent declarations and she found out she couldn’t smile anymore.

Every time his lips left her mouth to catch a breath, caress her earlobe or pay attention to her neck, her mouth formed a smile automatically and her cheeks actually _hurt_ from doing it over and over again. Her lips had pins and needles in them, growing with each suck and bite.

“I love you too.”

“…but you should sleep.”

“Do I have to?” she murmured discontentedly and met his lips lazily.

“Probably,” he chuckled. “It’s half past three.”

Oh. She was actually too tired to be surprised. Let alone _look_ surprised.

“Hm.” She grasped his jaw and kissed him properly. Her lips _hurt_ from the action. Despite his own weariness, he answered her lunge with enthusiasm. She realized he must have been in pain – he was hovering over her for a while now, supporting himself mostly on his elbows, only sometimes resting on his knees. However, it _defined his muscles_ even _better_ so she wouldn’t be the one to point it out. “I can’t.”

He frowned. “Why?”

She slid her hands along his bare chest, that amazing gift from heaven (or hell), _accidentally_ touching his ass before returning them to his sides. There was nothing seductive in that – but that tremendous feeling of touching it… “I have half-naked Matt Murdock in my bed. It would be a _crime_.”

His eyebrows shot up and he burst out laughing, his whole body vibrating on hers. His muscles gave up and he fell on her with his whole weight ( _And oh my god, is that really all muscle?_ ), quickly rolling them over so he wouldn’t crush her.

Vera was suddenly cold – he _was_ half-naked, but she only wore nylons and panties (two pairs, yeah, not helping). Still laughing, he freed covers from under his body and threw it over her back.

“It’s okay. I know a good attorney.”

It was Vera now who rested on her elbows next to his head, not wanting him to be squeezed by her completely. “Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interests?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Look at you, getting all lawyerly.”

She rolled her eyes, wishing he _could_ hear that, shifting her weight slightly, trying to find a way of the least evil for his body and her tired _everything_.

He laughed silently, drawing small circles on her hip. Apart from the vibrations caused by his laugh, she could tell that the switching of their positions and her fidgeting didn’t leave him indifferent. She adjusted herself on his lap. His expression didn’t change except his jaw tightening. She wouldn’t notice if she didn’t look for it. The wave of mischievousness washed over her and she grinned, delighted she found _his_ weakness.

“You like girl on top!” she accused him, kissing the tense muscles on his throat, but cracking and laughing again. She felt amazing. Loved. _Wanted_.

He surprised her, his arm pulling her closer by her waist, making her lose the support and falling on him. “ _Maybe_ ,” he whispered to her ear suggestively, “and maybe you really _do_ have a dirty mouth.”

He won the round. She blushed furiously at the memory of what she had said. Recalling it, she was _ashamed_. She had no idea from which dark corner of her mind it came from. “Uhm…”

Sensing her embarrassment, he didn’t mock her. He tucked a loose strand behind her ear and continued.

“Keep it that way,” he breathed, voice pleading. “Keep it that way and next time, I _will_ _fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name_.”

Her lips parted, her breath hitching, her heart hammering in her chest. Her excitement, long forgotten, was bubbling in her chest again. “That’s not gonna help me fall asleep, you know.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s the fun of it.”

Vera withdrew from him, his grip getting loose – he was letting her go. She sat up, lap still on his groin and smacked his chest. “You’re a terrible person. And I hate you.”

He observed her quietly, face hurt.

She got up, heading to the bathroom, turning to his lying figure on her bed at the door (and _oh_ , that would deserve a photo, she tried to carve the marvellous picture in her memory at least). “And I really hope you’ll live up to that promise soon, because then we’re switching and I’m on top.”

While she continued her way, a pillow hit her head from behind. “Vera!”

“Love you too!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very in love with Boyce Avenue's version of Coldplay’s Fix you: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9ETxBHYBAU).
> 
> Who caught The Winter Soldier reference?
> 
> Also…uhm... my first attempt to write something which is at least _nearing_ smut, so sorry if it’s not…whatever – if it’s crap. I'm blushing just trying to write it, so…yeah.
> 
> Title from Rhodes – Somebody


	24. A tribute to your glory  (Sergei)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intermezzo no.4. No words needed.

That stone was a poor attempt to pay a tribute to her - she deserved so much more. He couldn’t afford it though.

His chuckle mingled with a sob and he raised his gaze to the grey sky. Frozen drops of water fell on his face, biting his cheeks, replacing his dried tears. He wondered whether God was watching. Laura used to believe He did. Sergei was much more sceptical.

Ever since they had discovered her illness, he had been trying to find his faith, so he could pray for her health. Praying was… good, giving him peace and hope - only it hadn’t paid the medical bills and his job as a computer technical worker hadn’t sufficed. They would have stopped her treatment. He had had no other choice but doing what he did.

Sergei was angry with God for taking his wife – she was too young. But he hated men more. The men who decided long healthy life needed to be bought. God spread love, God was supposed to _be_ love, but Sergei hated. He hated one particular man from the bottom of his heart, so intensively he wished for his pain and suffering.

Ashamed of his thoughts in the place of the final rest of his wife, he looked around as if someone would read his mind. No one was watching him. There were few people, guarding their own altars, consumed by their own grief. _Who had they lost? A parent? A kid? A lover? A friend?_ It didn’t matter. The hole in their chest would feel the same. The emptiness.

Sergei ran his fingers over the cold stone. He wished for a marble one. Or for a statue of an angel, who would watch over his wife’s ashes. He was lucky her parents had found enough respect to buy at least this one and had let him add **_and wife_** despite hating him.

 ** _Laura Nagel  
* 2.3.1981 _**    
****_† 6.10.2016  
Beloved daughter, sister and wife_

Sergei hadn’t been with his wife in her last moments. No. He had been rooting in jail, after he had tried to rob a grocery shop to get money for _his wife treatment_ and he had gotten caught. There was only one man to blame. And it wasn’t himself.

“Mr. Nagel, I presume,” a rough voice spoke at his side and Sergei turned around to face the intruder of his musing. He didn’t recognize the man. He guessed he was in his forties, expensive suit and luxury coat. A forgettable face with compassionate expression.

 “Yes.” _What do you want? Leave me alone._

“Excuse me for disturbing your grieving and let me tell you how deeply sorry I am for your loss,” he offered in a polite voice, but Sergei wouldn’t let him deceive him.

“Who are you?” he demanded. _Why are you talking to me?_

“My name is not important. Our common interests are.”

Sergei didn’t like the man. He spoke in riddles. And Sergei doubted they had common interests. He didn’t have any. He had lost his wife. He had no friends. His only company was the silence and his hate.

“What do you want?” _Are you leaving soon? You should._

“Like I said. We had common interests. I am looking for an acquaintance. For a capable man like yourself,” he was talking to him kindly, pleading. “I lost my wife too. Not to the arms of death. She left me together with my daughter after my business went down.”

Sergei laughed with no humour. “That’s very different. You and I, we are nothing alike.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Nagel. My business was taken down by one man, who robbed me of my loved ones. And I happen to know that the very same man caused your pain as well.”

Sergei sharply spun his body and took the man by his collar, rage crawling out of him “How could you possibly know? Who _the hell_ are you?!” he hissed into his _deadly calm_ face, eyes squinting, searching for any clue or any hint of fear.

The man held his hands out, showing he meant no harm. “I was down and out as well, Mr. Nagel. But I got up. I’m fighting for what was taken from me. You can’t. But you can revenge your wife’s death.”

Sergei knew new tears appeared in his eyes. It was the tears of despair. Tears of righteous wrath. He let go of the unknown man. “How?” he breathed.

“By taking down the man who did this to you.”

He shook his head furiously. “I can’t. _No one_ can.”

“You would be surprised. I am not alone. I know safety and strength are in numbers. That’s why I need you as well,” he lectured him, convincing him about his truth.

Sergei thought of his wife – of the way she used to smile, of her soft long hair she had lost to the therapy, her lips, chapping in the hospital, of the wariness in her voice when he had heard her for the last time over a crappy phone. He couldn’t have held her hand when she had been leaving this world.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the emptiness in his chest growing and suffocating him from inside.

He should be thanking for this chance. He should accept. He would get rid of some of his sorrow. He would pass it on to someone else.

“I don’t want him dead. I want him to feel the pain. I want him to suffer the way I did.”

The man looked thoughtful. “I can’t promise you that. But _it is rumoured_ there is someone special to his heart.”

“How do you want to do it?” _How do you accomplish that?_ _What do you need me to do?_

“It can’t be that hard. Lure him out. Unexceptional robbery. Mugging. Whatever.”

Sergei disagreed. “He can’t be caught easily. What makes you think _you_ can do it?”

“Like I said. Safety is in numbers. Everyone can make a contribution. You would be surprised how many people are left behind. Losing their loved ones. Friends. Lone wolves, who lost their pack…”

Sergei huffed. “That’s a very nice fairy tale. Can you prove that it actually works?”

The man whose name he still didn’t know smiled mysteriously, beckoning to someone to approach them. Sergei looked around and saw the lonely men standing by the tombstones earlier coming closer.

“Let me tell you a secret, Mr. Nagel. Nothing creates new alliances faster…” he paused dramatically as more men gathered around them, “…than a common enemy.”

…

_Surrounded by all the devices, he felt a little less lonely. The flickering of the tiny lights kept him company as he waited for the outcome of the mission._

_He believed in its success. They were armed enough. They knew what they were doing, each bringing different skills to their motley crew. At first, Sergei was sceptical seeing their differences – lots of them were using their fists more than their brains and their self-confidence depended on the size of the gun in their hands - but that was their power. The man he hated couldn’t handle them all at once, his attention split._

_It felt like an eternity, but eventually The Unitor flung the door of Sergei’s tech room open (and Sergei was astonished by the greatness of their base every day) with a satisfied smile._

_“I’m bearing gifts,” he explained and ceremonially put down an old phone right in front of him._

_Sergei frowned at the strange device. Who was still using those? Except grandpas?_

_“What is this?” he asked The Unitor sceptically._

_“It belongs to him. Look at it. Or into in. Whatever. You might like it. I am willing to postpone my plans to fulfil your wish.”_

_Sergei hesitantly turned on the phone. It probably wasn’t used often – there were only two numbers saved in it and one text. He checked the contacts. He didn’t make much of it. Each was only named by one letter._

_“You believe she’s one of them?”_

_The Unitor’s face mirrored mischievousness. ”I believe they are important to him as well. But read the sent text.”_

_Sergei obeyed, opening the message, impatient as the old phone loaded the data slowly. When it finally did, his lips spread into a wicked smile._

_“Shall we begin?”_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short intermezzo no. 4 with a small time-jumping (near future written in _italic_ ).  
> In case you wonder, we did not meet Sergei, Laura or The Unitor before, you didn’t just forget them, no need to re-read previous parts ;)


	25. 20)  (Revelation) In the light of day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Meeting the target. You can leave your position. Do you copy?”  
> “Roger that. Status without change. Meeting at the café?”  
> “Copy that. Yes. Twenty minutes. T out.”  
> “Copy that. V out.”  
> “What the hell is happening? What is this?”

For Vera, the Sunday morning was… unpleasant. Firstly, it wasn’t even morning when she woke up at her alarm set to eleven a.m. Secondly, she didn’t feel rested, like at all. Thirdly – and that was the worst part really - she was _alone_.

She blinked in surprise when she found her bed empty, pricking up her ears, trying to catch the smallest noise indicating Matt was somewhere in her apartment at least. She couldn’t hear any. It didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t there, but… she made her way to the bathroom, checking the blurry picture of her kitchen. No Matt. No Matt in the bathroom either. Her mood, already not par excellence, fell below freezing point. That day would be _shit_ , she was sure of it.

Vera brushed her teeth and hair on autopilot, looking at the girl in the mirror discontentedly – even when she put on a mascara, it was a sad image - she kinda missed the make-up from Terri. Her favourite black tea didn’t cheer her up either. Flapjack had no effect. She went to work early, stepping out into the cold weather.

“You slept in,” a voice behind her accused her and she jumped, hand over her heart.

“Ježiši Kriste. Terri!” She turned to her friend, her mood getting better instantly despite the fright. “What are you doi- _what are you wearing_?”

Her friend was all in black – black woollen hat, scarf covering not just her neck but also the lower part of her face, coat, jeans, boots. _Everything_. She even had sunglasses, which were totally useless that day. The only bright parts were her hair peeking from under the hat and scarf and a newspaper folded under her arm.

She raised a finger, _wait a second_ , pulled out something that looked dangerously like a walkie and pressed one of the buttons. “Meeting the target. You can leave your position. Do you copy?”

Was Vera dreaming? It would explain _a lot_.

“Roger that. Status without change. Meeting at the café?” a mechanical, but undeniably male voice answered her.

“Copy that. Yes. Twenty minutes. T out.”

“Copy that. V out.”

Vera watched the exchange in disbelief and pinched herself on the cheek. She didn’t wake up. _What was it in the wine yesterday?_ _Or the shots?_ She didn’t have many of them…

“What the hell is happening? What is _this_?” She gestured towards Terri.

Her friend grabbed her arm and led her the way she usually walked to the café. Right. Work. “You need a bodyguard since you’re famous now. I decided to take care of that.”

Vera blinked in surprise. “What?” She was not famous. She did not need a bodyguard. She already had one, no matter he wasn’t present at the moment or bothered to leave a message before vanishing. “And who were you talking to? Where did you even get hold on a walkie?”

Terri shrugged. “Victor. And Victor. He was watching your boyfriend ever since he sneaked up from your apartment at half past nine.”

Vera gasped. “Victor?” Terri’s boyfriend was- “He’s watching Matt? Terri, what the hell!”

Whatever was this about, it was crossing the line. She hoped – and it was a fool’s hope, she was well-aware – that Matt hadn’t noticed Victor on his tail. Or at least hadn’t jumped him and broken his arms or something, when he finding out he was being followed.

“He didn’t even say goodbye, did he? Bastard. Typical male individual. Use the opportunity and disappear in the morning. He’s lucky he went to church…” Terri fussed and then stopped in her tracks.

“What?” Vera asked for a hundredth time that day.

Terri looked at her, carefully raising her sunglasses, examining Vera with her piercing eyes. Her jaw hung open. She seemed scandalized.

“You haven’t slept together!” she exclaimed, voice filled with pure shock.

Vera was shocked by her words as well, scanning her surrounding for possible eavesdroppers.

“How could you possibly know?!” she shrieked, covering her mouth and started walking again. That was it. Terri was a psychic, she was crazy and she was- whatever she was.

“Unbelievable! Is he frigid? You were hot as fuck, he obviously spent the night at your place, he sneaked up from your flat like a typical guy and yet you-“

Vera couldn’t resist defending him even when she was angry with him. “He’s not frigid, trust me.” She felt her face reddened at the memory of their…something. He so _wasn’t_. “And he’s not exactly a typical guy either…”

Terri watched her with thoughtful expression as she walked by her side. “Huh. I guess it had something to do with your affair on the dance floor?”

Vera snapped her head to her. “How do you know about-“

“I told you that you were famous! Come on. Café is only three minutes from here. I’ll show you,” Terri offered and Vera quickened her pace, not asking further questions just yet. The warm air and almost empty space of MDDC welcomed them. Terri made her way to the nearest table, tossing the newspaper on it, stripping her coat. Vera didn’t bother to strip. She reached for the papers with a circled article.

**_Habitual benefit with pleasant surprises_ **

Oh god. _Oh god, no._

Vera sat in the chair heavily, putting off her hat and running fingers through her hair. That was so, so bad if Terri knew about her scene with Alex from a _newspaper article_. She swallowed nervously, eyeing Terri rather than reading it – the text was short, but she could see a small arrow pointing at a number – the article continued on another page.

“What does it say?” she asked her friend and got caught off guard as she saw a spark of excitement in Terri’s eyes.

“Well, it’s kinda boring. Short version of the opening speech which, _ew_ , list of the headiest head honchos attending the benefit despite the last year fiasco with Fisk’s corruption case, complimenting the musicians and the singer _and_ …” she turned to the other page, colourful pictures all over it, “a tribute to anonymous dancers, who opened the evening with the coolest dance _ever_.” She solemnly jabbed her finger in one of the photos and Vera looked at it with fear.

It wasn’t the slap. In fact, it was a nice photo from before their evening went out of rails. It was a snapshot from her first dance with Alex, the one she had enjoyed - her excitement was shining from the picture as well. She was in one of those mocking positions, escaping Alex and he grimaced as he followed her. And yeah, in the background, she could see the people watching them in awe.

Her lips formed a smile subconsciously. She found one more picture where she was with Foggy, Karen and Matt, small figures in the crowd. But all of them together.

“I am waiting for an explanation!” Terri burst out and snapped her back to reality.

“Uhm… I met my old dance partner there?” _Terri’s eyebrow up_. “I used to do contemporary dancing and then switched to group dancing in pairs? And because fate is a bitch, I met Alex on the _one_ party I attended and he insisted we went dancing despite the empty dance floor and we kinda… enjoyed it. And then it went to shit, because he couldn’t keep his hands where he should and I slapped him-”

“You slapped him?! Atta girl!”

“Yeeeeah. There’s nothing in the newspaper about that, right?”

Terri frowned. “No. Sadly. But I can keep looking in tabloids…”

“Looking for what?” a voice from behind her demanded and Terri smiled brilliantly before she turned her head to its source.

Vera looked up – very _up_ – and her gaze met a huge guy with short military haircut, stuffed in his coat, which was obviously too narrow for his _broad_ shoulders. Smiling dark brown eyes observed Terri as she stood up and pecked him on his lips.

This must have been the famous Victor then. And Vera could see why he was working in security, okay? If he wasn’t giving Terri a bear hug at the moment, he would be terrifying. He wasn’t as tall as Vera’s brother, but he was… well, broad.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted her and kissed her once more, properly this time. Vera tore her eyes away, giving them some privacy, biting her cheek to keep herself from smiling goofily.

“Hi, Vic.”

They were _totally in love_. Vera silently got up from her chair, planning on vanishing to the back so she could get ready for her shift.

“Don’t move. I need to introduce you,” Terri warned her, without interrupting the kissing notably and Vera froze, staying in her half standing position. Terri was a psychic _with_ _eyes on the back of her head._

Finishing their make-out session, Terri turned to face Vera with wide smile. “Vera, meet Victor, my boyfriend. Vic, meet Vera, my greatest friends and the one of the most insane people I had a chance to encounter.”

Said _Terri_. Ha! Her words warmed her heart though. She didn’t know Terri considered her _the greatest friend_. She was touched. “Thanks, Terri.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t kiss me, he gets jealous, don’t you, Vic?”

Victor grinned at Terri and held out a hand in Vera’s direction. She offered hers, slightly afraid he might crush her bones. He didn’t – his grip was firm, but surprisingly gentle. It reminded her of Matt. His arms were far from Victor’s size, but he could break bones with them easily as well – yet, his touch could be tender, treating her like fragile glass. Apart from him loving Terri, this made Vera like Victor instantly.

“Pleasure to meet you. Really. Heard a lot about you,” she admitted and smiled at him honestly.

He returned the courtesy. “Pleasure all mine.” His eyes said another sentence though _– sorry for tailing your boyfriend_. Vera already forgave him – him being in one piece was a good sign, after all.

Terri clapped her hands. “Great. Now, that I fulfilled my duty and let you know you’re a star – seriously, I can’t let you go anywhere alone without making it to papers - we’ll leave you to your work. The newspaper is yours. Have a nice shift, we’re out.”

Terri quickly wrapped her coat around her and grabbed Victor’s arm. He waved at Vera from the door and Vera, still little baffled, waved back. She shoved the newspaper in her backpack as fast as she could though.

She made it through her shift without catastrophes. Michelle was with her, so she found out her trip was ahead and despite the poor amount of customers, she wasn’t bored. She headed to the Fogwell’s afterwards. She was still tired, but she was hoping music and moving would help. She had to clean up first though. Bugger.

Vera put on some songs while cleaning up as well, so it wouldn’t bore her to death and she managed. She wrapped her hands happily and changed the music to something more… well, beating, and realized she was _delighted_. Sure, Matt left without bothering to let her know or leaving a note (and she did _not_ punch the bag harder at that thought and did _not_ kick it with more strength than usual, nope), but otherwise everything was _great_. She had nice memories of yesterday, today wasn’t as bad as she anticipated, she met Terri’s boyfriend and pretty much approved him. And she was fit-boxing on the top of that.

Touch on her hip shocked her and she quickly turned around, fist aiming at the intruder. Luckily for him, he ducked.

“Šmarja. Matt! Are you crazy? I could have broken your nose!” she cried out, more startled than angry, arm still extended, fist where his head would have been if he hadn’t been fast enough. Seriously. What was he thinking?

And how did he always sneak up on her like that? _Freaking ninja_.

He caught her hand and pulled it down, standing up straight again, smug smile on his face. “I would like to see you try,” he mocked her.

Vera, heated up from her training, suddenly realizing she in fact _was_ mad at him, aimed her other fist. He avoided it without bigger effort, eyebrow raised. “For real?”

She tried few different hits, getting frustrated when he managed to dodge them all and captured her fist in his hand. She growled and he let go.

Vera quickly spun and placed a back kick to his ribs – well, almost – he caught her feet as well. He didn’t drop it though. Bending her leg to get him in her reach, she used her hands again - blocking her jab and left cross, he grabbed her forearm, pulling her close.

“Got you,” he whispered to her ear teasingly and held her firmly as she tried to jerk away. Her frown was in sharp contrast with his grin.

“Good for you,” she spitted out and using his grip to support her body, she prodded his knee with hers in attempt to trip him.

Surprisingly, he sunk a little before straightening up – he didn’t expect it. Vera didn’t think it was some special move – she just tried the first thing that came to her mind. He still held her, but his confident  smile disappeared. They stood in their bizarre position for a while, silent, just breathing, Vera measuring him with somewhat pissed expression, he focusing on her with everything but his gaze.

“You’re mad at me,” he noted and she chuckled without humour, the sound loud in soft tones on the background – she would be stretching now.

“No shit, Sherlock. Do you always leave the girls you’re sleeping with, and I mean literally _sleeping_ , without even a simple note?”

His body tensed and his face changed in a mask of guilt. “You were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you up. But I’m sorry. I really am. I should have texted at least.”

“Yeah, well, no good crying over spilled milk.”

He sighed and released her. She laughed humourlessly one more time when she recognized the song.

“What?”

“The song.”

He tilted his head. He didn’t understand a word. Naturally. “What is it about?”

Her eyebrows shot up, actually satisfied with his question. “You want me to translate? I will.”

Matt was baffled at the sudden change in her mood. She _would_ translate. It was a good song. _Gotta love that irony_. He nodded.

 _Prázdná je noc <The night is empty>_  
Měsíc do řeky spad <As the moon drowned in a river>  
Prázdná a zlá <So empty and wicked>  
Když nemám tě rád <When I do not love you>  
Prázdná je noc <The night is empty>  
Bez obrazu rám <like a frame without the painting>  
Prázdná a zbytečná <So empty and pointless>  
Když usínám sám <When I’m falling asleep alone>

Vera was reciting the lines right after, repeating after singer’s voice. “You want me to continue?”

Matt grimaced. “No thanks. I got the message.”

She sighed and hugged the bundle of misery in front of her. He contentedly hid her in his arms, placing a kiss in her hair. “Sorry. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah, _yeah_ …” she mumbled to his chest, breathing in his scent. She realized _she_ was kinda gross, so she quickly freed herself from his embrace, not wanting his shirt to be soaked with _her_ sweat. “So… any advices for my punches?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. She acknowledged he would probably have a lot of them, so she took it back. “You know what? Don’t answer.”

As she started unwrapping her bandages, he smiled. “It’s not bad actually. Little more hips moving – but you’re definitely better at that than most people. Remember to hold your arms high. Nice kick.”

Yeah, the guy who got it to his knee in her flat probably thought so as well. “You caught it,” she opposed.

“And?” His face was saying _And what? I am not most people, you know._

Vera huffed and threw the bandages aside. “Show-off.” He just loved showing off, didn’t he? “Can I watch you?” she demanded as the idea popped in her mind. She would love to watch him during work-out. Only for observing his technique, _obviously_.

She totally knocked him off balance if his expression was anything to go by. He blinked furiously, head tilting in silent question. _Why?_

Vera shrugged. “I want to see how it’s done right,” she said simply and started stretching, well-aware he was examining her thoughtfully. And maybe, just maybe, _she_ was showing off this time – she was proud of her limber. If she was spreading her legs wider than necessary, bending over more than usual, it was a _pure coincidence_. A wicked smile appeared on her lips, when she was facing the floor and heard his teeth grind. He walked to his bag, changing his clothes to return the favour of teasing. She kept peeking and finished her stretching fast.

“So… can I?”

Matt sighed and stepped closer to the punching bag. “Vera, it’s…”

“Hey, if you really mind, I’ll be out of your hair.” _But I rather wouldn’t._

“You’re not gonna like it. And…” he hesitated and fell silent, as if he said something he didn’t want to.

Count her interested. “And what?”

“Nothing.”

He placed few powerful jabs in the bag and Vera had to use her hand to close her mouth which was hanging open when she saw how violently the punching bag jerked. Okay. She was a total loser. He hadn’t even started yet. She swung up on the edge of the ring to get a better view.

Vera watched him silently as he was quickly changing the frequency of his hits and alternating them, never letting his guard down (and forearms fall down) despite not fighting a real enemy. She knew the theory, she tried to do it as well, but theory and practise were different things – she believed that if she would receive few blows in her face, she would probably remembered better.  She observed his posture, the way his body shifted when he stroke. And she really didn’t focus on his butt. She didn’t! It was her gaze flickering there against her will – and he didn’t even wear the tight pants. Which… _shame_.

Matt caught the punching bag with both hands and huffed. “Fine, I’ll say it: … _And you’re distracting._ ”

“What?!” she protested and her heartbeat jumped at his accusation as if she got caught. She didn’t do anything! Nothing he could know of. “I didn’t say a word! I didn’t make a single move! Is my breathing annoying or what?” When she said it, she realized her breathing was actually faster. And her pulse probably too. Damn.

So she liked what she saw, sue her.

“Your heartbeat,” Matt complained and turned around to face her.

“Well, excuse me for being alive,” she blurted out. She was kinda ashamed though. Not that she would tell him that.

The corners of his lips twitched. “It’s _elevated_ , Vera.”

Vera threw her hands in the air. “Same excuse! It’s not like I can help it!” _It’s your fault anyway!_

He crossed their distance in few quick steps and kissed her. Hard. _Ooookay._ Her hands flew to his face and hair to let him know she was all for it, just in case her mouth answering him eagerly wasn’t an adequate evidence.

“If it’s any consolation, mine was too,” he whispered to her lips and leaned back.

“ _Was,_ huh?”

“Well, it is, again. I’m not a mind reader, but I can take a hint. Next time, I’ll be ready for it,” he promised and she understood it was his tactful way to ejecting her.

“Sure. Me too. I’m out.” Vera jumped off the ring and grabbed her backpack.

“Sorry.”

Vera laughed ta the absurdity of the situation. “Are you apologizing for distracting me or being distracted by it?” she asked him, actually curious.

“I guess both.”

She snickered in response. _Well, be glad you don’t train in your mask…_ she thought as she walked to the door. Watching his ass was one thing, but being practically forced to stare at his lips would be _much_ bigger issue, since she knew what he could do with them and she remembered where they had been last night.

“I thought you hated the mask,” he remarked and she froze in mid-step.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Uhm...”

“Dammit!”

“Don’t you?” he wondered as he followed her footsteps and she sighed in resignation.

“I _do_. In my own way,” she admitted, refusing to reveal her reasons. She was telling the truth and that had to suffice. The fact that she somehow loved it at the same time and it meant a lot for her that she knew the man under it could remain hidden.

“Huh.”

“Yeah. _Huh_ ,” she repeated, a stupid idea forming in her mind. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare one, would you?”

His face changed into a confused grimace. “Why?”

Vera bit her lip. “No reason.” She spun on her heals and headed to the coat-stand and got dressed.

Matt jogged away, so she considered their conversation finished. She was surprised when he returned, piece of black fabric in his hand. To cover her own confusion (and excitement – she knew Matt was _Mike_ and all that jazz, but it was still strange coming to terms with it, meeting reality – it was a work in progress), she interrogated him.

“Are you wearing your costume in your sports bag?” she asked him, bewildered. On the other hand, what did she expected? A vault with a safety lock? A fingerprints authorization perhaps?

Matt shrugged. “It would be a waste of time to come home from here and back. It’s a spare one. Not worn yet. You can keep it; I have few more at home. Don’t show it around though.”

“Yeah, no kidding. You… you wouldn’t mind?” She blushed furiously. It was ridiculous, but she _wanted_ to have it. She accepted it hesitantly and he gave her a small peck on her lips.

“Night, Vera. I’ll let you know when I’ll get home.”

She blinked in surprise. “You won’t ask me why I want it?”

“Do you _want_ to tell me?”

She considered. Why exactly did she? As a reminder of him? Or of his trust? As a lucky charm?  She couldn’t really explain why so… “I guess not. I’ll let you know when I figure it out myself. Good night, Matt... _Mike.”_

“You make me look like a schizophrenic,” he complained as she switched the lights off.

Vera was leaving the gym with laugh, warm feeling in her chest and the Devil’s cowl in her backpack.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the idea of Terri playing a spy. 
> 
> The song Vera translates: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSumsf-pToY - personally I find the video a little weird, but I couldn’t find another one so… if you want a full translation (a very loose one), I can try. Just let me know. And yes, I already sneaked one of his songs earlier. So yes, this one is ancient too :D
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – No light, no light


	26. 21)  You can’t choose what stays…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fine. You want sweatpants or the blanket?”  
> “Is there a third option?”  
> “The covers from my bed?”  
> “I was actually talking about body heat.”  
> “You know I didn’t like physics much, but I think isolation is quite important in that case. Body heat itself…“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last fluff, I promise. Too much talking.

Surprisingly enough, no one jumped her while carrying the Devil’s mask in her backpack. She got home safely, still chuckling, not sure if it was endorphins from her work out, serotonin from just being happy or freaking oxytocin, because… _Matt_.

At home, she found a text from her mum from earlier – she demanded a skype call as soon as possible, _photos_ since Vera still hadn’t sent her any picture of Matt and a report on her well-being in general. Vera offered her Monday morning, since she had the afternoon shift again or Tuesday, because she didn’t go to work at all. Later, she found out that Monday suited her better – Marky wanted to know whether they would make a very long video call, because they planned on finding the right dress for her. Vera couldn’t seem to stop smiling even when she was falling asleep. She hadn’t forgotten to report her safety to Terri though.

Finding Matt’s text in the morning was a pleasant bonus. (Except, _4 a.m…_. for real?! When did he sleep?)

Her mum didn’t have much time – she was at work, but her colleagues were liberal and promised not to finger her, so she was watching Vera expectantly when she joined the call.

“So? How are you? How was the party?”

Vera bit her lip. “Good. Uhm… really good.”

“That doesn’t sound _good_ , to be honest. What happened?” she worried, frowning at the monitor, examining Vera’s expression.

Vera huffed. “Nothing. Just… remember Alex? From our dance group? _Somehow_ we ran into each other. We had nice two dances, but I was glad when it was over.”

“Hm… and what about _your_ man?”

Vera smiled unwittingly. “He was great. I mean he _is_ great, like _incredible human being_ great. And I finally met his friend/lawyer partner officially. And their secretary. They are amazing people, we had fun. We danced too. The musicians and the singer were awesome. All good. Thanks again for the package.”

Her mum was nodding contentedly. “That sounds much better. So you wore the red dress?”

Oh. Vera hadn’t mention it to mum at all. She didn’t realize. “Uhm, not exactly. I’ll send you a photo okay? I had a lot of help with make-up and hair and my landlady, Nina, she lent me a beautiful necklace, so… just wait a minute.”

Vera hesitated and sent her the photo where she was alone first. One step at the time. She was sure her mum would ask for more. Vera hadn’t actually seen the photos yet – she chose the best and waited for the verdict.

“Opening, opening… _oh honey_ , you were beautiful! Did you borrow the dress? It’s lovely! Hope he appreciated it…” she mumbled under her breath and Vera’s face reddened at the memory of the late night _appreciation_.

“Yeah, yeah he did…”

“I’m waiting.”

“Good for you.”

“Verčo! Just sent me his picture for god’s sake. Unless you lied and he’s a greybeard, I don’t think I would find him improper. He doesn’t have a piercing or too much tattoos, does he? No, no, he’s a lawyer, right…?”

Vera rolled her eyes and browsed her phone for their picture. It looked good. _Amazing_ actually, given the circumstances. She liked the one without glasses better, _obviously_. She found the one where Matt seemed to be looking directly in the camera and crossed her fingers.

“Sent, mum.”

He mum opened the file and Vera waited. And waited. And wait-

“Vera, sweetheart, you look fabulous together. He _is_ very handsome, but you love the eyes most, don’t you? He has kind eyes.”

“I know!” she supported her mum, screaming _yaaay_ internally, because her mum hadn’t notice anything wrong. There was _nothing_ wrong, after all. She would send her mum the last photo too, with Foggy and Karen, but she didn’t want to push her luck. The glasses were a deadly giveaway.

“I am happy for you, Verunko. How are you otherwise? Everything alright?”

“Sure. I met Terri’s boyfriend yesterday, he’s a nice guy too, intimidating a little though. His arms are like three times bigger than mine, but he seems to be cool. And tomorrow, Marky’s going to choose the dress and they are going to video-conference-call me so I could help. All sunshine and rainbows, mum,” she reassured her and her mum nodded again.

“Okay. Lenka was here for the weekend, she helped me with the sweets. It’s all good _at home_ too. Have a lovely day, sweetheart.”

“You too, mum. Bye.”

Vera couldn’t help feeling like her mum was afraid she was so happy _in New York_ , that she would forget where _her_ _home_ was.

Was she? Truth to be told, despite her departure back to Czechia being far, far away, she couldn’t imagine leaving here. Leaving everything… and _everyone_. She chased away those thoughts before she could start crying.

\---

MDDC was a mess. It was snowing outside, like _a lot_ , and people went inside to hide from it and had nothing better to do than bringing more and more water and mud and the floor was a catastrophe five minutes after being mopped and _of course_ some kid slipped and now they were in Mrs. Walker’s office and people were bickering about the staff, because _it was their fault_.

Everyone was nervous, people bumping into each other, not leaving tips and Lyla (who wouldn’t say a word against customers) with Barbara (who would happily send them to hell) were on the afternoon shift too and when Vera left fifteen minutes after ten (right after she wiped the floor, _again_ ) , she was exhausted. She fought the urge to go to Fogwell’s _tonight_ just to punch something. But she didn’t have her clothes and once she was inside her flat (hidden from the cold wind and snow she hated now, because it didn’t stay on the pavement anyway), she wouldn’t leave the warm space again. She had a long and very hot shower, washing away freaking _icicles_ from her wet hair (okay, they were none, but it was _a close call_ ).

Leaving the steaming bathroom, Vera headed to the bedroom, planning on falling to bed and get up at seven thirty at earliest – Marky was hitting the saloon at two p.m. their time, so she would have half an hour to wake up.

Passing the living room, she would swear she heard a knock. She grabbed her hoodie, hoping the late visitor (if there was one) wouldn’t mind her almost bare legs with warm socks, and headed to the door. There was no one.  She was getting crazy. Shaking her head, she closed the door just to hear the knock again.

It wasn’t a knock on the door. It was on a _window_. She squinted to the darkness outside, approaching both windows of her living room. And _of course_. Matt— _Mike_ was grinning behind one of them, resting on her fire escape casually, gloved hand on the glass. Vera shortly considered leaving him there, because she had door _dammit_ and he was insane being outside at all.  As if he could hear her thoughts, the corners of his lips turned down – there was a split on them. He had his mask, so she couldn’t see his puppy eyes, but she could imagine them quite accurately.

Vera sighed. “Damn you.” She opened the window widely, letting him in and the _snow_ and chill air as well. _“Šmarja.”_

Matt dusted off the snowflakes as she closed the window. She measured him with her sceptical gaze – he was still wearing only the thin layer of his undershirt. And his boots were dripping with water _right on the floor_. He stood there like a statue of misery. She rolled her eyes and removed his mask – his cheeks were reddened from the cold and he smiled as her hands, warm from the shower, covered them.

 _“Freaking vigilantes…”_ she muttered under her breath as she went to the kitchen to make him tea at least. He wanted to follow her. “Nah! Don’t you dare to make a single move. Or take your shoes off.”

His body froze and then he obediently squatted over to remove them together with his socks. She put the kettle on.

“ _Bossy_ ,” she heard him mumble and she spun back to him.

“I’ll show you _bossy_. Are you crazy? It’s _freezing_. Shirt down, now.” Matt raised his eyebrows playfully. “You know what I mean!”

He obeyed once again and he made his way to her, hugging her from the back. She hissed at his cold hands and lips on her neck.

“ _Hey_ ,” he whispered softly and it wasn’t fair. She turned around in his arms, carefully kissing his mouth. The drying blood didn’t seem to bother him as much as her.

Vera sighed again. “Couldn’t you stay inside? The weather is terrible, Matt. You’re gonna catch a cold…” she mothered him, resisting his charm as much as she could. She had a point, okay?

“There was a kidnapping. Little boy and girl. It couldn’t wait,” he explained her, voice serious. Her breath hitched with worry. “They are home now. Safe and sound.”

Vera raised her eyes to his, observing his face. She only found the split lip, but the bruising wouldn’t be visible so soon. She took a step back, examining his chest, cautiously running her hands over it, pressing on several areas. It was cold too, but he didn’t make a sound of pain. She looked at his face again, palm resting over his heart. “What about you?”

He grinned and wrinkled his nose. “Little cold. But otherwise good.” She waited for the jump indicating a lie. His lips twitched with amusement.

“Can you control your heartbeat too?” she wondered as she stripped her – and who was she kidding, it was mostly his at this point – hoodie and handed it to him.

Matt shook his head and the kettle clicked. “No.” And she felt like _not yet_ should follow. It didn’t though. He quickly put on the hoodie. “Thanks.”

“Hm. Chamomile? Black? Green?”

“Chamomile’s fine, thank you, Vera.”

“Uh-uh.” Vera took the cup and led him to the couch. She put it on the table and touched his hips before he could sit down. Eyebrows shooting up once again, he mirrored her move and grabbed hers.

“Very funny. Now lose the pants too, because they are _soaking wet_.”

“Well, that’s awfully familiar…” he noted, but stripped them as well. Vera considered whether she should lend him hers of just leave him in his underwear. She tilted her head, watching certain area as she couldn’t decide if she should just leave him like that. It was an interesting view after all. He gasped, scandalized. “Really?”

Vera shrugged. “What?... Fine. You want sweatpants or the blanket?”

Mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he took a step closer to her, placing his slowly warming hands on her waist. “Is there a third option?”

She smiled with one corner of her lips. “The covers from my bed?” she offered innocently like she had no idea what he was talking about.

Vera could tell he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something. Instead, he leaned to her ear.

“I was actually talking about body heat.”

Oh, she would _not_ give up so easily. “You know I didn’t like physics much, but I think isolation is quite important in that case. Body heat itself-“ Matt shut her up by meeting her lips, the easiest and the most effective way in the world. “-doesn’t work,” she breathed the end of her sentence, grinning.

“I’d like to give it a try anyway,” he tried as he pulled her closer.

“It will cost you,” Vera warned him and he hummed in agreement as he placed a small kiss under her chin. She giggled. _It tickled_. 

He froze, lips on her neck spreading widely. “Are you ticklish? How did I not notice that?”

“I am not!” she protested, lying through her teeth, yanking from his arms. He reached for her vainly, her determination to escape his fingers too big. She ran into the bedroom, taking the blanket for him. Her heart fastened as she passed over the package in the darkest corner of her wardrobe. She might wear it in the end after all. _Later_.

When she returned, Matt was still standing where she had left him, arms crossed. Vera felt kinda sorry she couldn’t see that posture without the hoodie, but it was a nice image anyway. He frowned when he realized what was in her hands. _What was he expecting?_

With a disappointed sigh, he sat on the couch and she wrapped his legs, seating herself next to him, handing him his cup. She rested her head against his shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered.

With a smile in his voice, he told her the same.

Matt sipped his tea few times, unzipped the hoodie and wrapped his arm around her waist just to manipulate her into lying position. He pressed her back to his chest, pulling her close, covering them both. Vera put her glasses away, contentedly closing her eyes as he kissed her hair and whispered another declaration into her ear. She fell asleep in no time.

Vera had no idea what time he left, but in the morning, she vaguely remembered his arms carrying her to bed ( _again_ ) and the soft kiss on her forehead. He texted her about arriving home around one a.m., so that was nice. The cup was clean, put away on its usual place, the blanket and the hoodie meticulously folded on the couch. She shook her head in disbelief and got ready for the big phone call.

They asked about her goofy grin. When she told them she was in love and she only recalled her latest date – could it be called a date? – they insisted on her narration before starting. So Marky, Anna and Jitka were sitting in the wedding salon, glass of champagne in their hands, listening about the benefit she forget to mention (she wasn’t letting them know about anything these days, shame on her) and demanding photos, because she hadn’t sent them any earlier (to her defence, she hadn’t had any).

They cautiously asked her if she found the hottest guy in the room and took a picture with him, not believing she got hands on someone so _insanely hot_ (Marky’s words, the soon-to-be-bride) and seeing the photo, knowing his name was Matt, lawyer living in Hell’s Kitchen, they discovered the articles about the case of Wilson Fisk. With other pictures of Matt. _With the deadly giveaway._

“Are you dating a blind guy?” Anna asked incredulously and Vera looked at the ceiling, wishing she could see the sky, pleading God to give her strength.

“Yes I do. Can we _please_ talk about the dress now?”

“Yep. But you’re so telling us more about him later…” Jitka ordered and Vera agreed, _just shut up and give some attention to the freaking bride._ So they did. And they chose a beautiful princess dress with huge skirt and tiny light green decorations on the top.

It was the owner of the salon who saved her from further interrogation – they were closing. Girls had to end the call, Anna threating Vera they wouldn’t let it slide next time. She prayed Anna found another important topic until then.

Vera visited Nina in the afternoon, returning the necklace with multiple thanks, describing the big evening, showing her the photos ( _Oh, he looks younger without his glasses. – I know! – And you’re a lovely couple. – Thank you, Nina._ ) and the article as well. She wasn’t sure about Nina’s attention though, because Maria was about to arrive later that day so she was really excited.

Vera stopped at cleaner’s with the dress, continued her baking, tidied up at home and hit Fogwell’s. No Matt that evening, sadly. When she was punching the bag though, she tried to remember to keep her arms up and move her hips properly. She slept like a baby, dreaming of cups of tea, warm blankets and arms keeping her safe in their embrace.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Florence and The Machine – No light, no light


	27. 22)  …and what fades away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So? Vera? Talk to me, dammit! …Vera!”  
> “I don’t know.”  
> “Did he tell you anything?”  
> “Not a word. Not a sound. There was nothing but silence.”

Getting up in the early morning after a day off sucked. Seriously. Not finding a text from her vigilante boyfriend sucked even more. No message about staying in. No report about arriving home safe, without a scratch, okay, _whatever_. Vera suspected Matt was bitten in his ass by running around in his underwear in a blizzard, fell asleep with killer cold and hadn’t woken up yet. Not that he had to – firstly, he had his own practice so he was the master of his time and secondly, it was _freaking_ early. Vera sleepily let his sin slide and got ready for work.

To make her day even better, she entered MDDC and found Caroline with Barbara in. Great. It could have been worse though – it could have been Olivia, who had been shooting her really weird looks ever since she had cut her hand while watching Vera and Matt flirt over the counter, or Hannah - her eyes popped every time she saw Vera, because she knew she went to L&Z benefit with Matt Murdock. So yeah, it could have been worse. However, it could have been better.

She made herself green tea (with leaving the teabag in _much_ longer than usual, because she needed something strong) and started working. People were lately demanding their coffee stronger as well – Vera suspected it was the darkness, which was disappearing too late and made their getting up harder. They kept coming to the café with zombie looks.

Vera took her break around ten as usual. While eating, she checked her phone – still no message. She didn’t want to freak out just yet. But she did text Matt and shoved her phone in the pocket of her apron to know about his text or call instantly.

Another hour passed. There weren’t many customers so she excused herself, went to the bathroom and called Matt’s phone, not caring whether she would wake him up or interrupt a meeting. _Because dammit, Murdock! I’m worried about you!_

He didn’t pick up. Vera let out a frustrated huff and considered calling Claire. Before scaring her as well though, she checked the website for the Devil’s sightings. Maybe he stayed in and just didn’t let her know, cold hitting him too hard. For all she knew, he could have suffer more than ordinary human being; God knows every man suffer more than women can possibly imagine when catching it, let alone with his heighten senses (which must have been dulled and for Matt, that would be probably _very unpleasant_ ), including pain.

Her blood turned to ice when she discovered two different _thank you_ from the last night.

She desperately ran her fingers through her hair. It was _nothing_. He just hadn’t text her. His phone had died. Or something like that. She was being _paranoid_. He was alright.

Vera called Claire. She knew it was a good idea to take her number when they had their bloody encounter. After the phone call, she would decide it was more like a curse.

“Hey, Vera. It’s everything, okay?”

Vera whined silently. _No it’s not._ “Hi. I don’t know,” she sounded panicked even to herself.

Her tone startled Claire. “Vera? Are you alright? Is… is he alright?”

“Is there any reason he shouldn’t be? Did he stop by yesterday?” Vera demanded, hope rising in her chest. Claire might know _something_. Maybe she had treated some of his not so minor wounds and ordered him to stay in and now she thought he got worse since Vera called her. Yeah. That would make sense.

“Uhm… no. He… didn’t. Is there any reason why you sound like someone scared the shit out of you?”

 _Yes._ She bit her lip. “I haven’t heard from him. It’ just… it’s probably nothing.” It wasn’t _nothing_. She was getting uncomfortably sure of it.

Knock on the bathroom door. “Vera? You alright?” It was Caroline. Vera must have been in for too long. _Awesome_.

“Just… if you hear from him, let me know? Please?” Vera pleaded in quiet voice just in case Caroline was trying to make out what was she doing in here, eavesdropping.

“Sure. Same here,” Claire demanded and Vera nodded, knowing she couldn’t see that.  

“Yeah. Thanks, Claire. Bye.”

Vera took several deep breaths and opened the door with apologizing expression. Caroline observed her and her pissed off face soften when she saw her. Vera guessed she looked like shit.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I guess my breakfast didn’t agree with me. I’ll be fine.”

Vera _wasn’t_ fine. She was tapping her foot nervously and Barbara was watching her with her eyebrows up and a sceptical look questioning her sanity. Vera didn’t care about her in slightest. Truth to be told, she was questioning her own sanity as well.

It was half past eleven, when one of her favourite customers showed up. Likeable face, not so expensive suit, goofy grin. And no, he didn’t wear red glasses. His expression was worried though. _Foggy_ was worried.

 _Matt didn’t show up at work,_ she thought.

 _Screw everything_. She circled the counter and took him aside and spoke up the very same time he did. “Please, tell me-”

“Did you-“

They both fell in silence, faces paler than before. Vera looked at the ceiling as it would help her to find peace. Or answers.

“I guess you didn’t hear from him either,” he noted, unhappy grimace twisting his mouth into reversed U.

Vera shook her head, working against the growing lump in her throat. “He didn’t show up at work, did he?” She didn’t guess anymore. She was confident she was right.

“No.”

“He… he didn’t text me in the morning. Or evening. I thought… I hoped it was just a cold? I mean he showed up at my apartment two nights ago, soaked and freezing. And he keeps running around practically in his underwear so…”

“He’s not at home.”

Vera looked at him, surprised by his proclaim. “He’s not answering the door.“

“He’s _not home_ , Vera. His apartment is empty. Wallet and phone there. He didn’t leave, not as Matt Murdock at least,” he explained her and Vera wondered what the story behind Foggy having a spare key was. It was because they were close friends? Was it about Matt’s adventures… and injuries?

She tasted blood in her mouth. She must have bit her lip through – she let go of it.

“Okay. Uhm… I called Claire. She didn’t know about him either. You think… you think he got hurt? Like badly? And he’s… uhm, lying somewhere, unable to get up? _Dammit,_ _that’s exactly why I want him to text me when he gets home…_ ” she muttered under her breath and Foggy blinked, surprised by her words.

“Is he reporting to you on a regular basis?” Foggy asked her incredulously, voice pure shock.

“Yes. Not important right-“ Her phone buzzed in her apron. She quickly pulled it out.

 _Mike_.

Vera did _not_ like that. Matt calling her from his burner phone in the middle of the day? That could mean nothing good. But at least he _called_. She answered as fast as she could.

“Hey! Where are you? Are you alright?” she shot questions and Foggy watched her in anticipation, eyes hopeful.

There was no sound. No voice. Nothing. Deadly silence.

Did someone find him, trying out numbers in his phone? Vera would be _delighted_ at the fact Matt actually _had_ saved her number if she wasn’t terrified.

“M- _Mike?_ You’re there?”

No answer.

At night, she might think – maybe, just maybe, no matter how unlikely it would be - that he butt-dialled her. But there would be at least _any_ sound, right? Rustling. Clicking. Soft sound of breathing. _Anything_.

Her mind went blank and she felt dizziness take over her.

What if someone got him?

She felt a hand on her wrist and eyed its source. Foggy was frowning at her, squeezing, demanding her attention.

What if someone got him? What if… her heart stopped at the idea of his— no. He wasn’t _dead_. He wouldn’t get himself _killed_. He _escaped_ and they only had his phone. What if they were using it against him now? She quickly ended the call, ignoring Foggy’s puzzled expression.

“So? Vera? Talk to me, dammit!” he ordered, voice authoritative. It was a sad imitation of Matt’s or Mike’s persuasive firmness. She blinked furiously against her tears. “Vera!”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, the worst scenarios playing out in her mind. Unconscious. Stabbed.  Shot. Paralyzed. _Dead_.

“Did he tell you anything?”

Vera shook her head. “Not a word. Not a sound, Foggy. There was _nothing_ but silence.” She sobbed, her hand shooting to her mouth to muffle that sound.

No. He was _alive_. He was alive and some bad guys had just scored a lucky hit and he had lost his phone to them. _Breathe_ , Veronika. _Breathe_.

There. Good.

_Now think._

They called her. Conclusion? They would call the others. “We have to call Claire.”

Foggy threw his hands in the air. “Why?” he asked her as she was already dialling Matt’s personal nurse.

“Vera? Did you reach him?” Claire’s voice with hints of relief spoke from the phone and Vera fought the urge to whimper.

“No. But, Claire, listen to me. I think… I think someone got to him.”

Foggy’s eyes popped and he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his own phone. _It’s him_ , he mouthed and she shook her head, not wanting him to pick up. He did it anyway, attentively listening for anything from the speaker.

Vera continued her own conversation, murdering him with her gaze.

“Claire, it you get a phone call from him and you don’t hear his voice, don’t stay on the phone for too long.” Vera looked at Foggy significantly. “And do not tell other name then _Mike_. Okay? Foggy got a call, gotta go.”

Foggy was frowning deeply. “Mike?” he tried, following Vera’s instructions. Judging by his expression, there was no one on the other end of the line. “Mike, can you hear me? Are you-“

Vera gestured to his phone, showing him to cut it off. He ended the call unwillingly. He seemed hurt. And scared.

“They got him, didn’t they?” It was more a statement than a question.

Vera looked away, so he wouldn’t see her tears. “I think so.” Her voice broke, tears escaping her eyes despite her attempts to keep them from rolling down her face. She turned back to Foggy.

He sighed. “Hey, it doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean anything.” He didn’t sound like he believed that.

Yeah. _Fool’s hope_. But the drowning man would clutch at a straw. She _was_ drowning at the moment, water filling her lungs, making any attempt to take a breath extremely difficult. Vera gripped her straw in the shape of hope as strongly as she could.

“Okay. You’re right. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m going back to work otherwise I’ll be chewed by Olivia no.2. Could you… could you maybe check out the locations he was seen yesterday night?” she pleaded, feeling Barbara’s gaze burning to her the back of her head impatiently.

Foggy nodded, eyes wide, small smile appearing on his lips. “You’re one hell of a girlfriend, you know that?”

Vera returned his smile shakily.

“You bet your ass I am. I’m already getting ready for donating more of my precious A-.” And she _was_.

She returned behind the counter, eyeing the clock hatefully. It was five minutes to twelve. _Five minutes to midnight._ She was hoping the ‘midnight’ would wait until her shift ended.

A received text burned in her pocket. Vera checked her phone inconspicuously, when she was entering an order ten minutes later.

**_Got the call too. No Mike. No nothing. What’s the next move?_ **

She clenched her fists while smiling to the customer. It probably looked forced, because the guy seemed to be scared by it more than anything else. She didn’t really care.

Precisely at half past one, she texted Claire back that Foggy was searching possible areas of Matt’s occurrence. Claire didn’t answer. Maybe she had a shift too.

Vera left the café as if it was on fire, already dialling Foggy, people who stared at her be damned.

“Vera? News?” his hopeful voice echoed in her painfully empty mind.

If he was asking her that, he hadn’t found a single clue. “Nothing. Claire got the call. What about you?”

“Nada,” he choked and Vera stumbled over her feet when she heard his desperation. She didn’t like this version of Foggy.

“Okay. Okay, where are you? I’ll help you searching.”

“You don’t have to. There’s _jack shit_ everywhere.”

“Foggy!” she strained through her teeth, suddenly angry with him for the lack of his determination. “This is Matt we’re talking about. We’re not giving up, dammit. Are you at the second location already? I’ll meet you there.”

It wasn’t the lack of his determination. It was the _lack of hope_ , what pissed her off. Because she _needed_ hope. She couldn’t give it up, because then she would have nothing left. Hope was the only thing she had on Matt right now.

“Vera, maybe we should call the police. I mean… he’s technically a missing person, right? They would have to look for him,” Foggy offered tiredly and Vera stopped dead in her tracks. Where was she even heading anyway?

“The police?” she repeated, emotionless. If she let out a single emotion, she would cry. Or at least scream.

To her surprise, Foggy’s idea didn’t sound as bad as expected. But Matt would kill them if they launched a hunt after him. Or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for that matter. And the police would laugh to their faces in both cases, because he was missing for what, fifteen hours tops?

“I don’t think that’s an option. Not yet, anyway. Will you finally tell me where you are?”

Foggy sighed, but sounded little better as he confirmed he was indeed at the second place already.

Vera remembered that part of Hell’s Kitchen from her first walk around the neighbourhood – she decided she wouldn’t came back. Like ever. But she met Foggy, it was middle of the day or rather early afternoon, so she managed. They criss-crossed the alleyways, whispering Matt’s or Mike’s name from time to time. People probably thought they were nut-jobs. At least they fitted in the part of the city well.

They gave up at about four p.m. Shadows were falling on the buildings slowly and the people seemed to get scarier behind every corner. Foggy agreed he would come back to Matt’s apartment and Vera went to hers. It was unlikely Matt would come to _her place_ if he would be able to get anywhere, but waiting for him there was as good (or bad) as anywhere else.

Vera walked the streets on autopilot, her mind wandering. She was once more considering calling the police. Or rather entering the precinct, claiming a meeting with the one officer who she thought might hear her out. If she told sergeant Mahoney she was in contact with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he might actually believe her. She wasn’t sure it would make a difference though. There were most likely rules that had to be followed no matter what.

At home, she checked the site again with foolish hope that someone saw him. It was stupid, of course. There were no new posts since the two she had already seen. She browsed all the thank you notes, sightings, compliments and tears filled her eyes again. She started reading a long letter addressed to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. It was months old, but she didn’t care. It was not like she had anything better to do than that apart from hypnotizing her phone or searching whole Hell’s Kitchen.

 ** _There are lot of things that define a hero. Courage. Will. Helpfulness. Selflessness. Sacrifice.  
The man we call the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen certainly is one. He saved my life. He saved lots of lives and many of them are more important than mine, but I’m writing this because I need people to know there is one more significant feature of a true hero that they tend to forget about. Strength? Of a character, maybe. But what I’m talking about is _**_humanity._ **  
We can fight over the definition of humanity – whether it means being a human complete with his imperfections and weaknesses or being human capable of feeling compassion. I saw both the night he saved me.  
I was assaulted by four guys, each of them some with kind of a weapon - brass knuckles, knives. I tried to run, but they were faster. I screamed and screamed and he heard me. He has all my respect for what he can do, but if he remembers the night, at least bits and pieces, he knows it didn’t go well. He won of course, because he has something they hadn’t – conviction – but he ended up bloody. I’ll never forget the extensive laceration on his face and the cuts – god, there were ** so many **cuts, some of them really deep, gaping scarily. He seemed to be barely standing. He called the police and asked for the ambulance for me, sending it few alleys over. And then he approached me – more like stumbled to my feet - , checking on my busted ankle carefully and offering his hand. He helped** me **to get up, supported my weight, got me to the location, himself breathing hard and tangling up his own feet multiple times as he did so. He never let me fall.  
I don’t know who you are, but I want you to know I am grateful. More importantly that ** I believe in you. **You don’t have to fight aliens to be a hero. You don’t need fancy tech or super strength. For me, you are the truest hero because of your heart and humanity.**  
Thank you.  
Nat

Vera blinked furiously as her vision became blurry, hand covering her mouth. She had no idea who the hell _Nat_ was, but she would make sure Matt would read this one. The words lied on her like a dead weight though, squeezing her chest, suffocating her – her mind was racing, reading it over and over again, trying to figure out _why._ It was on the tip of her tongue, the idea forming in her thoughts, but she couldn’t _grasp it_. She stared at each word for eternity, letters screaming, burning into her brain.

_I don’t know who you are…. More importantly that I believe in you… You don’t have to fight aliens to be a hero… truest hero because of your heart…_

Vera sighed contentedly as the fog in her mind suddenly dissolved and the pressure was lifted from her chest, allowing her to breathe again. She picked up the phone and called Terri.

“Hey, what’s up?” her friend’s cheerful voice greeted her and Vera couldn’t help smiling through her tears. She knew Matt would be _mad as hell_. But at the moment, she had no better solution.

“Terri, I need help of a true New Yorker.”

“Wow. That sounds solemnly. What do you need? Shopping? Tour guiding? Bodyguarding? Me and Victor are both fully available.” The groan in the background didn’t agree, but Vera graciously ignored that.

She gulped and blurted the sentence out before she could change her mind. “I need you to tell me how to get to the Avengers tower.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. There’s that. Sorry not sorry.  
> Title from Florence and The Machine – No light, no light


	28. Of Richards, slaps and religious issues (Tony Stark)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am- … we are in close contact with each other-”  
> “You’re sleeping together, I gathered, please continue.”  
> “No, they don’t. Look at her. Not yet, anyway. Don’t interrupt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...intermezzo no.5

Tony was _tired_. He was working on the microchip for two days straight and one of the _fucking_ circuits kept… well, short-circuiting. Someone was popping up in his lab from time to time to remind him to at least drink. Tony, the good friend he was, didn’t want his buddies to worry, so he obeyed and drank coffee every single time they stopped by.

For now, it was Steve by his side, eyeing him with concern.

“Tony, you should rest. You continue like this, you’ll end up blowing this place up,” he pressed to his non-existent responsibility.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Please. With this microchip? Nah.”

Steve sighed as a sign of resignation. Tony knew Cap didn’t understand shit about what he was creating with his capable hands – all the new tech was still too complicated for the living fossil, even though he tried his best.

“Mr.Stark? Sir? Were you expecting any visitors today?” a polite British voice asked. Jarvis.

Tony frowned, trying to remember – he barely recalled _what day_ was today – eyes turning to the ceiling with the effort. “I don’t know, Jarvis. Probably not. Is someone waiting for me?”

“Yes, sir. A young woman. She’s demanding a meeting with you.”

He could literally _hear_ Steve’s judgement. So he used to be sleeping around a little – it wasn’t a crime. He was desired. But Tony had always made very clear he didn’t want to be bothered again. And he was… careful. About creating mini-Tonies. Besides, it was all in the past.

“Why?” he asked his AI.

“She claims it’s about the religious issues in Hell’s Kitchen you expressed your concerns about.”

“What the hell?” he exclaimed bewildered. Was it some kind of a prank? Was Barton bored or annoyed with Tony’s constant effort to make this world a better place, recently  by inventing a faster operating system, so he paid some woman to bug him?

“Who is she? Show me the cameras, Jarvis.”

“Yes, sir.”

The floating picture of the reception desk appeared on his right. Steve took a step back since he was in the middle of the projection.

Tony was unimpressed.  Sure, the girl was pretty enough – not top model-slim, but still pleasantly lean, quite tall, nice legs. Long black hair. Face? Nah. Nothing special. Also, too young for him. Barton would know better. This wasn’t his doing.

“She introduced herself as Dianne Inn Ferni,” Jarvis informed him and Tony’s eyebrows shut up.

“Really?”

“Isn’t _inferno_ the Latin word for Hell?” asked Steve at the same time.

“It is indeed, Mr. Rogers.”

“Run her through the facial recognition,” Tony ordered while watching the girl fidgeting with a short black scarf around her neck nervously. Who the hell was she?

“Her name is Veronika Macháčková. Born in Trutnov, Czech Republic. 7.2.1995. No degree or record of being a student at the moment, dropout from Faculty of Medicine in Prague’s Charles University after two successfully finished years. Resident of NY Hell’s Kitchen for about two months. Working as a bartender at My Daily Dose of Caffeine, local café. No criminal record, but she appeared in police reports – she was held hostage in a bank robbery and kidnapped. Saved by the local vigilante known as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen both times. Do you wish me to show you the security footage from the bank, sir?”

Tony’s interest spiked when he heard the mention of the Devil – they were monitoring his activities for months now, considering asking him to join the team. He seemed to be a lone wolf though, too focused on his own little playground, so they hadn’t approached him. Yet.

“Yes, Jarvis, that would be great.”

And that girl definitely caught his attention when he saw the footage, because _damn_ , she got balls. (Also, the Devil was a freaking ninja.) It still didn’t explain why she wanted to see him and why she came up with such a ridiculous name and excuse. Tony didn’t care about religion, let alone in Hell’s Kitchen.

“The unofficial records mention she was kidnapped because the men were hoping to discover the identity of the vigilante – they believed she had a connection with him. She apparently told them his name was Mike, but claimed the officer she made it up. She expressed her suspicion his name was Richard, Dick for short, since he never told it to anyone. I also have a video from the Landman & Zack benefit which she attended few days ago. Would you like to see, sir? I would recommend it,” Jarvis offered politely and Tony thought _why not_. He gave her one point mentally – for her sense of humour. He could appreciate that.

Tony was watching the video, thoughtful. Okay, so she could dance. And? It wasn’t exactly import- _holy shit_ that was one fabulous slap. The rest of the footage would be boring, so he turned it off – not before he glimpsed a fragment of her exchange with two well-known lawyers who happened to bring down Wilson Fisk while ago. With the help of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Tony examined the inconspicuous girl still waiting at the reception desk. _Who_ was she? And what was it with that _freaking_ black scarf around her neck with those two weirdly loose ends? She wouldn’t let go of it the whole time.

Then he realized it wasn’t a _scarf_. It was a coiled _cowl_.

“JARVIS, send her up like right NOW!” he yelled and made his way to the common room of the Avengers, followed by confused Steve.

“What is it, Tony? You know who she is?”

“JARVIS! Call Natasha and Barton! Banner too!”

“TONY!”

“Seriously? Name beginning with _D_? _Inn Ferni_? _Religious issues_ in Hell’s Kitchen? The _black thingie_ around her neck? Saved by the Devil, _twice_? Connection with _Nelson & Murdock_? I’m telling you, Rogers, this is about _the Devil_ _of_ _Hell’s Kitchen_!”

Steve’s eyes popped.

Natasha entered the room first, dressed in her yoga pants and sports bra. “What is it Stark? What the hell is your _emergency_?” she asked him, annoyed he interrupted her _ohm-oooohm_ session most likely.

The elevator dinged and Veronica Machackova’s surprised face appeared as its doors opened. Three pairs of eyes snapped up at her. She looked very nervous. “Uhm. Good evening… “

“Natasha, Steve, I’d like to introduce you an ally of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Veronica Machackova,” Tony explained, spreading his arms wide as if he was welcoming a well-known diva on the stage.

Natasha’s head inclined to her side, observing the girl cautiously and Steve tried a reassuring smile – it was more like a grimace, because he was still astonished by Tony’s revelation.

Tony gave the girl cocky grin before speaking up again. “Or am I wrong, miss Machackova?”

The girl took few careful steps in their direction. “You are not, Mr. Stark, even though I’m not sure he considers me an _ally_. The important thing is that he’s in trouble. And I know you know nothing about me, probably nothing about him. You have no reason to trust us. But he’s a good man and he’s helping people. Please. I believe he’s in a serious danger,” she pleaded, sliding her gaze to all of them successively during her speech, settling at Steve since he was the biggest softie in the room.

“Who’s in danger?” Barton appeared in the door as well and Veronica’s sad imploring eyes went wide as she saw him. Tony couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Everyone had a crush on Birdman these days. _Bow and arrows_. _Jeez_. What about the _Iron Man suit_?!

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Tony explained shortly and Barton whistled.

“What makes you think he’s in danger? Please, sit down,” Rogers offered and gestured to the couch. Veronica looked at Tony, silently asking for permission.

 _Good_. At least someone remembered whose building it was. “Go on. Sit down and answer the man’s question…” He crossed his arms, stepping closer.

She hesitantly took a seat. “I’m- … we are in close contact with each other-”

“You’re sleeping together, I gathered, please continue,” Tony couldn’t help but vent his excellent observation skills. The Devil was a loner – there was no way he would let someone get close enough to worry about him, let alone give someone _his mask_ , unless they were having sexual intercourse (it was totally Rogers’s fault he use this term in his head).

Her face turned bright red.

“No, they don’t. Look at her. _Not yet_ , anyway. Don’t interrupt,” Natasha came to her rescue with her even better spying skills and she sat on the couch too, as the rest of the present team seated themselves as well. The poor girl’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.  Not yet, huh? How long they were together? Since the bank? Since the kidnapping? Before any of those events? Either way the Devil had _some_ patience…

“Uhm. He has a burner phone. There are only three contacts in it – mine, his friend’s and other friend’s, who… gives him a medical attention when needed. He called me – well, someone called me from his phone. He didn’t say a word. I think he would… he wouldn’t call me accidentally. I got scared and hung up, worried someone got to him and was trying to trace the call.”

Natasha gave her an impressed look. “I like her.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen her disarm the robber or slap her dance partner – you would love it, women’s power,” Tony added with wide grin.

Clint raised an eyebrow and one corner of his lips twitched in admiration. Her face got even more crimson and she gave Tony a consternated look.

Steve calmed her. “Don’t worry about it. Tony just lacks the sense of privacy. And the slap was… justified, I’m sure. Nothing to be ashamed of. Please, continue.”

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I called the rest of his contacts so they wouldn’t give away his name at least or stayed on the phone for too long. They called me moments after I told them that they received the weird call too. No voice talking to them, just silence.”

“What was the last time you talked to him?” Clint asked.

She laughed, but there was no humour in it. It actually sounded scary. She turned to Barton with desperate eyes.

“Yesterday evening. Technically. It’s not even 24 hours. I know what you think, you think that I’m freaking out like an overprotective girlfriend, but _I am not_. He didn’t show up at work. He’s not in his apartment or his friends’. I haven’t heard from him. We have an agreement ever since one unpleasant experience involving homemade blood transfusion station. He always stops by or texts me or _something_. And then the calls…”

 _Yep_. She was crying now, hiding her face in her palms. _Shit_. Tony didn’t have enough coffee for this today. Or he had too much, it was hard to tell. 

“Hey, hey, calm down, Veronica.” Of course, Steve-the-appeaser came to the rescue, stroking her shoulder in comforting gesture. “We’ll do everything to find him.”

She took a deep breath and looked at him with religious trust. _Son of a bitch_ , that girl knew how to make puppy eyes. Tony actually wanted to help her really badly from that moment too.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” She examined the faces of the rest of the team. “Thank you, everyone, if you are willing to help.”

Clint gave her an enthusiastic nod, because the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was his own crush (something about parkouring?) and Natasha just… nodded too. Tony himself shrugged. “I wouldn’t miss it. What’s the plan, guys?”

Veronica raised her hand shyly.

“What is it, Veronica? Oh, and I don’t know how the others feel about it, but call me Steve, please.” Of course. _Steve_. _Good friend Steve, just a kid from Brooklyn_.

She eyed him timidly. “Thank you. I’m Vera.”

Natasha sighed in resignation. “Natasha.”

“Clint. Or Hawkeye. No preference.”

Tony remained silent, waiting for someone to snap at him, as they were all watching him with expectation. It was Clint, as he had reckoned. “Come on, Tony!”

“Fine. I’m Tony. Just wanted to know who would crack first.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him, but her lips twitched. “You were saying?” She turned back to _Vera_.

“It’s... it’s just an idea. They are probably not stupid, but I thought about calling them? _Let_ _them_ trace the call, so they could find me? Maybe you could track them too?  I wouldn’t be calling from here, of course.”

“ _Oh, honey_ , they wouldn’t trace the call if you made it from here,” Tony assured her.

“Right. Should have assumed that. If they tracked me and took me, you would be able to follow. Or I can act like a reckless girlfriend who is determined to save the man she loves and offer them to do anything in exchange for his life – turn herself in instead of him, gather money, I don’t know.” She scanned their expressions and quickly continued as she assumed she was seeing scepticism. “Or not. It’s stupid. Sorry. I am gonna shut up now. Just tell me what you need me to do. Or not to do. Whatever.” She pressed her lips together tightly, so she wouldn’t talk anymore.

“You really _do_ have balls, don’t you? Telling the police the Devil’s name is probably Dick. Disarming robbers. Offering yourself to be a decoy,” Tony named all the things he knew, pleasantly surprised by her bravery and _boldness_. She might not be as inconspicuous as he had thought so. Then again, there had to be something about her that had caught the Devil’s attention; Tony should have known better.

“Well, I once told the kidnappers that the Devil would break one of their bones for each punch they ever landed and started to name the bones in Latin, so I guess I do. Not my finest moment, by the way.” And with these words, she earned Natasha’s respect for eternity, Tony could tell. He wasn’t sure about Steve though, it may have the opposite effect on him. Tony was _impressed_ if nothing else.

“I actually think it could work,” Clint told her thoughtfully. “If they are dumb enough to fall for it. Dumb enough to think _you_ are that idiotic _._ We should give it a try. We can let them to locate you, but I like the reckless girlfriend better. How are your acting skills?”

“Oh, I won’t have to act,” she assured him, her eyes somewhat haunted.

“Which part are we talking about? Are we seriously considering involving a civilian in this?” Rogers burst out, indignant.

“Look at her, Steve. She’s not a civilian,” Natasha cooled him down, “she’s already involved. She’s willing to do it. I say we let her.” She smiled at Vera just slightly, supportive.

“What if she gets hurt?!”

“Then I’ll have to deal with Mike’s rage. But he’s gonna be pissed off for involving you guys anyway, so…” Vera offered with a shrug and Clint laughed.

Tony was startled. “About that. Mike? The police records say you made the name up.”

She looked at him incredulously.  “That was off the record too! How do you even— never mind. I think I don’t want to know. Yes. I came up with it. We settled on Mike after that.”

“You know his real name though.” Natasha and her cold logic. Tony thought it might work well as a bedroom role play if she called him a fake name, so he wasn’t so sure about that.

She sighed in resignation. “Yes. Yes I do. If… if you want me to tell you, I… I’ll just figure out another way of helping him. He would never forgive me…. _But if… if he dies_ … Oh- _oh_ … _no doprdele._ ”

Tony assumed the last words were a curse. She was downright miserable. Torn. Tears appeared in her eyes again. She blinked furiously to fight them off as she was about to stand up.

Steve comforted her again, placing a hand on her shoulder, keeping her down. “Hey, _hey_. Don’t worry about it. Our help is not conditional. We’ll deal with this later.”

Vera stared at him in disbelief for several seconds and then she hugged him wholeheartedly, colliding with his chest hard. Steve was shocked by her attack and froze, but he recovered and hugged her back carefully with his huge arms.

Tony thought his face was hilarious, but managed to keep his mouth shut. Natasha held back her laugh too. Clint tried, but snorted.

It was exactly the moment Bruce entered the room and watched the scene in front of him in awe. He looked like he just got out of bed, loser.

“What did I miss? Is she his long lost granddaughter or something?”

Natasha tossed a pen at him so he would shut up, while Steve, now adapted to the situation, kept comforting his _long lost granddaughter_. Yeah. _Or something._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intermezzo no.5 Thoughts? 
> 
> Also, do you think I should add The Avengers as a main tag? I mean, they _will_ be in like two or three following chapters…but there weren’t in the previous twenty or so…


	29. 23)  I’m not giving up…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jarvis, find me all people he ever helped to put away. Search their record, records of their families, friends. People who managed to get out of the prison the legal way or escaped.”  
> “That is a long list.”  
> “He has been busy.”

Vera thought that being on the ground floor of the enormous building, eyeing the polite woman with a professional smile (Vera wondered whether she was born with it, because it seemed to be glued to her face), she was somewhat ready for the encounter.

She didn’t know if she would be able to get in and score a meeting with Mr. Stark. She came up with a ridiculous story and a fake name pointing him to the direction of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, hoping he would take the hint and it would catch his interest – from what she understood, he was a genius and a very busy man, so it wasn’t an easy task. Vera even wore Matt’s mask around her neck. Truth to be told, it was more like a lucky charm than anything else, but maybe it would play a part in his decision to let her in. Or not.

She had a huge stage fright, feeling like the guards at the entrance were watching her suspiciously as she was standing by the reception desk, expecting them to escort her out any minute. And she was there for very long minutes before she was admitted. She sighed in relief when the woman nodded as she was listening to whatever instructions coming from her headset and directed her to the elevator, asking her to press the top button with a number so high it made Vera dizzy. The button was framed with silver, lighting up as she touched it. The elevator dinged as its doors closed, but didn’t move up.

“May I ask your name, madam?” a pleasant male voice with British accent demanded from behind her and she yelped. Turning around, she didn’t find anyone.

Of course she didn’t! There was no one in the elevator when she got in!

Examining the large space, she hesitantly answered. “Dianne. Dianne Inn Ferni.” She really hoped she was not being interrogated by some invisible supernatural being with ability to sense lies. She had enough of living polygraphs in the last few weeks, _thank you very much_.

The voice, sounding a little mechanical now, coughed tactfully. “Of course. May I ask your real name? It’s just a formality.”

Vera’s heart hammered in her chest and her breathing hitched. She thought that making it to the elevator was a small victory. Apparently, she shouldn’t count her chickens before they were hatched. Because she was _busted_. The elevator suddenly seemed much smaller and its walls seemed to be getting closer to her with each second.

“Miss?”

The elevator most likely wouldn’t move until she said a different name. Her true name. She took a deep breath. Okay. “Veronika Macháčková,” she squeaked, waiting for the consequences with eyes squeezed shut.

To her shock, there was another ding. “Thank you. Mr. Stark is expecting you.”

And she went up. She was trying to get herself together, gathering her courage. “Uhm. Great. Thanks… Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Jarvis. Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. I’m Mr. Stark’s AI,” answered the voice enthusiastically.

Sure. Okay. No big deal. This building had an artificial intelligence controlling the elevators. Vera probably shouldn’t have been surprised. She came to conclusion she wasn’t ready for meeting the Avengers. At all.

Terri had tried to prepare her. She had ditched Victor to meet up with her downstairs of her apartment building, eyes wide and shining with curiousness. (“What happened?” - “Well-“ - “Is this the mask of the Devil of Hell’s kitchen around your neck?” - “Uhm…”). Vera had briefly caught her up to speed, feeding her a story of an S.O.S. call from him (which Terri totally didn’t buy, but let it slide) and her decision. Terri had whistled and hailed them a cab, giving Vera more information about the superheroes she was about to meet. Vera had only done a short researched after Terri had told her about them the very first day as MDDC employee after all.

Terri had tried to describe each of them, so Vera had at least a vague idea.

Tony Stark – a genius and an inventor with no mouth filter, brisk sense of humour and no worries about his secret identity. He was the Iron Man, the man in a flying suit, and the owner of the Avengers tower. Then there was Captain America – true American hero, personification of courage and honour, veteran from the World War II., super soldier who somehow managed to nap in ice for seventy years. His name was Steve Rogers and apparently he was _hot as fuck_. He also had a very unhealthy relationship with his shield. The Black Widow – Terri didn’t know much about her apart being a very badass spy with ninja skills (a perfect match for the Devil, or ideal sparring partner, Terri’s words), having no hesitation but snapping someone’s neck, fancy red hair and that she was the equivalent of women’s power. Vera feared her more than another member of the team – the Hulk. Terri didn’t know who he was, but he supposedly had anger issues growing into enormous measures, changing into almost invulnerable green monster with super strength.  Hawkeye Vera remembered well – he was the archer with extraordinary precise aim and quite admirable parkouring skills. Terri wasn’t impressed, but Vera considered him an artist. And last but not least, Thor. An alien (but a good one!) and demigod with magic hammer – no sexual context. Terri loved his outfit, because it defined his _freaking_ muscles very well.

To say that the Avengers weren’t what Vera expected would be an understatement. Terri hadn’t warn her about… the casualness. They were just _people_.  Well, Thor wasn’t, but she hadn’t met him.

Mr. Stark, Tony, seemed to be the humourist of their team, shooting around jokes (mostly about her relationship with the vigilante), but taking her case in his capable hands and foul mouth. Despite the bags under his eyes, he was radiation excitement about the Devil (brilliantly taking her bait). Also, he had a weird metallic thing in his chest which everyone seemed to ignore.

Natasha, The Black Widow, surprised her the most – proclaiming she liked her, supporting her plan, even smiling. She was kinda giving Vera a killer-vibe, not being very emotional, rather relying on her brain – cold logic and observation skills. (How she knew about Vera’s and Matt’s love life, she had no idea – it reminded her of Terri though – she just _knew_ things.)

Steve, on the other hand, was warm. He matched her expectation the best. Bright blue eyes, blond hair and broad chest, radiating righteousness, kindness and protectiveness over those who cannot help themselves. He comforted Vera, offered the first name basis, held back Tony’s temper and Vera felt like he was an unofficial leader of their team. When he promised her their help, she hugged the shit out of him and felt incredibly embarrassed for her outburst later. He didn’t mention it.

Hawkeye/Clint, no preference, wasn’t the most talkative member of the Avengers. He didn’t say much, but when he did, it was to the point. Vera saw him like the nice uncle from the next door, an ordinary guy, who just happened to be a badass archer. He observed everyone with attentive and somewhat knowing eyes. If Captain America was the unofficial leader, Hawkeye was the elder, ironically enough. If Steve was the mother hen (in the best meaning of the word), Clint was the father. He seemed to like Tony’s jokes.

Vera wasn’t sure what to make out of the doctor. Entering a room, looking like a confused scientist interrupted from his deepest thoughts, fidgeting with his hands, he was a real puzzle. She ruminated about his presence until Tony had an inappropriate note about his angry issues. Vera couldn’t wrap her mind around it – he appeared to be the least hot-headed person in the room.

As they started planning a rescue mission, Vera was once again amazed by _Jarvis_ and all the advanced technology the Avengers had – or rather _Stark_ had. He called Jarvis, made several moves with his hands and suddenly _freaking_ holograms, floating pictures, maps and newspaper articles appeared in the middle of the room. The team approached it casually.

“ _No ty vole_ ,” escaped Vera’s lips and she hesitantly followed them, her gaze flickering between the screens or whatever it was.

She gasped when she realized it only was one file – the file on the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Sequences of his sightings, list of people he saved, photographs, footages, possible identities based on his body built, fighting skills, crimes he focused on. Vera fought a proud smile where she saw no Matt Murdock on the list.  

“Alright, so what do we know?” Stark clapped his hands twice and new document opened, titled _The case of the missing Devil._ The words were being written in it as they spoke. Cool.

“He was seen last night around eleven stopping a sexual assault,” Vera offered and Stark nodded, snapping his fingers – the site Vera checked more frequently than she liked lately opened in new window.

“Alright, so we know the last location he was seen at.”

“He’s either hiding, most likely hurt after escaping some fight he couldn’t win or he was taken. They have his phone, calling his contacts, tracking them. They want to get to him – lure him out of his hideout or break him by hurting people he may care about. Revenge?”

Vera did not like Natasha’s train of thought. More importantly, she didn’t like the fact she was probably right.

“Jarvis, find me all people he ever helped to put away. Search their record, records of their families, friends.  People who managed to get out of the prison the legal way or escaped.”

Three dots appeared and many documents were lighting up, getting smaller so they could fit the room as there were more and more of them. Vera couldn’t read them since the font was getting smaller, three dots still flickering provocatively as Jarvis kept looking

“That is a long list,” Clint noted and whistled in admiration.

“He has been busy,” Vera whispered absently, remembering all the gratitude she read about. The amount of criminals he stopped was incredible. Not to mention his work as a lawyer that wasn’t included in their search.

 _Shit_. It didn’t occur to her before that someone might have figured out his identity _before_ they jumped him.

”Could it be about his everyday life as well?” Natasha asked her as if she knew exactly what she was thinking about.

Vera bit her lip, wondering. No, that was unlikely. His identity was a well-kept secret and attacking him while being the vigilante when having unfinished business with Matt Murdock was absurd. “It could be,” she admitted, “but I don’t think so. It wouldn’t make any sense.”

“True.”

“This is pointless. There are too many possible enemies; we will never be able to find the right one. And he couldn’t have been jumped just by one guy, he would fight him off. It could be someone new on the scene as well as fractions of broken up gangs who happened to have the brilliant idea to join forces. The connections are too complicated. We will have to run in blind.” Clint was sceptical, but reasonable.

Steve spoke up after his long silent observations. “I don’t like it. But you’re right. It’s not like we can’t get ready for almost anything. It won’t be aliens, I am quite convinced about that one, so…”

Natasha nodded in agreement and Tony grinned at Clint. “Too bad. I wouldn’t mind some aliens-smashing.”

Clint’s lips twitched. “Me neither, but be glad Thor didn’t hear you.”

They all disappeared to different rooms, obviously gathering their best gear and Vera was left with the doctor and his tentative smile. “It’s gonna be alright. They are the best,” he reassured her, taking a hesitant step in her direction.

“They? You are not coming?” he asked him cautiously, taken aback by surprise. She was curious, but didn’t want to offend him.

His smile grew. “Not sure I would be much help if I… I think I will be more useful in case someone needs a medical attention.” Talking _Matt_. Uh-uh.

Vera looked out of the large window, fighting tears again. He was there somewhere. Hurt. Or worse. Maybe it was all in vain. Maybe he was already gone.

Gentle hand appeared on her shoulder. “I can’t guarantee he’s okay, but what I can do is to promise you I’ll do anything in my power to help him.”

Vera eyed him, tears escaping her eyes. She tried to smile at him, unsure about the result of her effort. “Thank you, …” _Hulk._.

“Bruce Banner.”

“Thank you, doctor Banner.”

“I’m not a real doctor, probably not the kind you think, you know.”

She hid her surprise conscientiously. “Well, you might as well be one.”

She was pleased when tiny sparkles of a smile shone from his eyes. “I’ll try to live up your expectations.”

Vera couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, honestly, for the first time that day. “Believe me, doctor Banner. None of you are what I expected. I can’t say I’m disappointed though.”

\---

“Mike? _Thank god_. Are you okay? I was worried sick. Did something happen to your phone? When you called me last time I couldn’t hear a thing…”

Vera couldn’t hear a thing now either. Whoever was on the other end of the line, accepting her phone call she made from the van parked by her apartment building (surrounded by so many tech she couldn’t believe it fitted it in here), didn’t say a word.

Tony and Natasha were with her while the others were getting ready in the Tower. (She didn’t understand much of their fancy talk, but she gathered something about a truck and a jet – what was the outcome of their discussion, she didn’t know. She caught a mention of sonic grenades, horrified what they were – when Tony explained to her in as plain English as he managed, she politely ask him not to use them, because it would make the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen lose his hearing and possibly mind. It started a very long debate about his _powers_ and how _not to cripple him more than he probably already was_ – Natasha shot Tony incredulous and very murderous look as Vera sat heavily on the couch and hyperventilated for another ten minutes).

“Mike? Mike, can you hear me?” she continued, and watched the loading on one of the monitors to reach hundred percent. Tony nodded several times and showed her a thumb up before he started to silently writing words she couldn’t made a sense of.

“Well, good evening,” spoke a male voice for the first time and her blood turned into ice. She didn’t know the man – but he sounded pleased by her call. Slimy, like a man louring a little girl into getting in his car under pretence of visiting a candy shop. She shivered.

“Who is this? Who are you?” Vera didn’t have to pretend her fear. She _was_ scared out of her mind.

“It doesn’t matter. I understand we have a common friend. Well, I mean _friend_ …”

Vera could imagine his mean, ugly smile quite vividly and it made her nauseous. Natasha, hearing both sides of the conversation beckoned to her, encouraging her to continue. Vera gulped.

“Where is he? What did you do to him?” And that sounded _cheesy_.  _Dammit_.

He didn’t seem to mind. “Oh, not far. And he’s pretty much alright. I’m sure I can arrange a little talk.”

Her lips parted as she exhaled shakily. Matt was _pretty much alright_ , _the man could arrange a little talk_. She didn’t know what that meant except one important thing – he was alive. They could still save him. There was still hope.

“What do you want?”

She could hear hurried footsteps and a loud bang of a door. He must have entered a different space, because quiet buzzing and rustling echoed in the background. Together with a quiet _no_.

“The question is what do _you_ want? Would you like to help your… _close friend_?” he was mocking her. Vera heard a loud gasp followed by panting and some indefinable noise. The _NO_ was louder this time. She closed her eyes – whatever they were doing, Matt _did_ _not_ like that.

“Yes.”

“Hm. You can. I’ll send some of _my_ good friends to pick you up. If you’re willing to come, we can certainly make some kind of a deal both sides will be content with.”

The muffled noise was cut by something that sounded too much like a punch. Vera winced. If they hit Matt, and she was certain they did, he didn’t make a sound at that blow.

Vera wouldn’t agree instantly. He might have suspected _she_ was trying to trick _him_. Which she was.

“Why should I trust you? How do I even know he’s not-,“ she didn’t want to say _dead_ out loud, ” -that he’s still alive and you’re not shitting me?”

That was good. She could swear, she had every right. As the reckless girlfriend she was pretending to be and as the kinda reckless girlfriend she was.

Silence fell. Then: “Smart girl. Say hi,” he encouraged someone and the noise started again before she heard another voice.

“Hey.”

A cold hand squeezed her heart, stopping it for a second. She wanted to cry in relief. Matt was _fine_.  He could _talk_. She bit her knuckles, clenched fist shoved to her mouth to hold back a sob with _Matt’s name_.

“ _Mike_. Are you… are you okay?” It was possibly the most stupid question she could have asked. Yet, she did.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He seemed to be out of breath, voice tense. Yeah, _no shit_. It didn’t escape her attention he didn’t say her name. He was trying to protect her. She smiled sadly for herself. They probably knew her name already. She appreciated his effort though.

“It’s… it’s good to hear yo-“

“Well, that’s just beautiful, but you got your evidence.” He must have took the phone away from Matt and returned it on his own ear, because his voice was clear. Content. “Now, I’ll send the escort your way in no time-“

_“NO!”_

“-and I would like to make one thing very clear-”

 _“Don’t! Get out of there! Go-“_ another bang echoed in the room followed by a very quiet whine.

Vera’s heart stopped again. “What did you just do to him?” She couldn’t hear Matt anymore. She didn’t like it. She _hated_ it in fact. She felt like someone knocked her breath out. Again.

The man probably left the room. “Nah, nothing that bad. Please, I hope you understand that involving the police would not be wise. So don’t. Stay on the line, wait outside your apartment building, my boys will pick you up in twenty minutes tops. I’ll put some music on, so you didn’t feel so strange, having a deaf phone on your ear. We know where you phone is, so if you move and try to contact anyone, we’ll be able to follow. Please, don’t try it out. It would be a shame to… hm. Also, don’t leave your phone on the street and leave, we will check up on you from time to time. You’re not waiting there, you try something, he’s dead. Are we clear?”

Darkness danced in front of her eyes. Vera had a hunch he wasn’t lying. It felt like she was just a back-up plan and their real goal was _killing_ the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Only this was much more fun. She thought she might gag.

“Yes. Very.”

“Good.”

Natasha gestured to one of the monitors and Vera looked at it.

**_We’ll leave you here, okay?_ **

She nodded.

**_Do you understand the plan?_ **

Another nod.

**_We know the location now. And we will follow you, you have nothing to be worried about. They won’t see us. The bug in your bra, once we’ll hear anything about scanning you – tell us, if you see anything suspicious – we’ll turn it off so they wouldn’t detect it. When meeting Mike, fill him in, so you don’t get decapitated. Not too soon though, we need a little time to take care of any possible guards. Ready?_ **

Vera gave her one more determined nod.

 _Good luck_ , Natasha mouthed and Vera got out of the van. With growing fear, she watched it as it disappeared behind a corner.

Good luck indeed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. So… Avengers. Sorry for leaving Thor behind, I haven’t seen “his” movies and wasn’t sure about writing his character at least approximately right…
> 
> No ty vole. = Holy shit. (light edition)
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – Never let me go
> 
> Big thanks to amazing ElisaC, who keeps cheering me up with comments and should bill me for consulting hours.


	30. 24)  …I’m just giving in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let. Her. Go.”  
> “Wonderful idea! … But no. That’s not what we gonna do.”

It was _less_ than twenty minutes. Vera checked. Yet, it felt like an eternity. She stood by the main door, politely nodding to everyone coming in, classical music playing in her ears – it was some really nerve-wracking piece and Vera wondered if they were trying to drive her crazy in every way possible, because they did great job at that. She was tempted to turn it off, but she was too scared they would keep their promise and she would not take any chances.

An inconspicuous black car parked in front of the entrance and Vera knew instantly it was her ride. No one got out.

“Get in!” the voice from the phone ordered as the music fell silent.

Vera approached the car with pounding heart, clenching her fists so her hands wouldn’t tremble visibly. Without the comforting presence of her new allies, she was on the edge for a while. Alone, she knew that if she got in that car, there would be no coming back. She could be trying how much she wanted, but her steps were slow and unsure. Car door opening on the back seat, she took a deep breath and slid in before she could change her mind. She closed them quickly and heard the lock instantly. She was trapped. The phone went deaf so she shoved it in her pocket.

She swallowed and squinted into the dark space. There were two other people apart from the driver – one on the passenger seat and one in the back with her.  The latter observed her with piercing eyes, measuring her from head to toe, until his lips twisted in a melancholic smile and he looked into her eyes with burning intensity.

“You have the same lips,” was all he said Vera felt a shiver run down her spine - his voice was filled with longing. She looked away, gasping quietly. She had no idea who this man was, but he made her hair stand on the end. Peripherally she saw him tilt his head. “Don’t be shy. It was a compliment.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers resting on the edge of her jaw. She stopped breathing. “She had long hair too, you know. Before.”

Vera exhaled shakily as his hand disappeared. Whoever he was, he was a _psychopath_. And she was with him on a backseat of a locked car, ignored by its other occupants and it made her _sick_.

“Lose the coat and give me your hands, sweetheart,” he asked her in voice nurses ask children to roll their sleeve up before taking the sample of their blood, reassuring them it won’t hurt.

Fists still clenched, she did as he wanted – she didn’t have enough courage to face him though. He drew the sleeves of her top and sweatshirt aside, fingers passing over her wrists delicately. She tensed every muscle in her body to stop herself from withdrawing. She saw enough movies and read enough books to know that this kind of people could went from tenderness to brutality in seconds.

She _did_ turn around when she heard the sound of a duct tape. He twisted it around her connected wrists several times, tight but not strangling. He cut the tape, shoving its end behind her wrists, stroking the backs of her hands once more. “You can call me Sergei,” he consented like he was giving up his best-kept secret and Vera couldn’t find her voice.

Should she address him? Was he expecting her to introduce herself?

He _was_ watching her with expectation. “ _Sergei_ , it’s nice to meet you. My name is Vera.” He smiled widely, hints of tenderness in his face and she was sure he was a _lunatic_.

“So similar,” he whispered, _“so similar…”_

The ride had no end. Sergei kept watching her even when she turned her face away and looked to the front. His gaze was burning a hole in her head. She felt no hate radiating from him. She felt _affection_. And that freaked her out million times more.

Finally, the car stopped. She looked out of the window – she wouldn’t recognize the layout. There were no street lamps, only a searchlight on one of the old industrial buildings. She must have passed this place as quickly as the one they searched with Foggy that day – it felt like ages past since she was looking for Matt with his best friend.

The door at her side opened and someone grabbed her arm firmly, forcing her to get out of the car. He definitely wasn’t as gentle as Sergei and Vera couldn’t find herself to mind, as the unknown man dragged her to one of the buildings, men from the car following them. Man standing by its doors stopped them with a gesture.

“Did you search her?” he demanded sharply, giving her company a disapproving glare when they shook their heads. “Really? _Bunch of idiots…”_

He pulled out some device from behind his back, apparently shoved in his pants – and _ew_ – touching few buttons, lighting up whole scale before the light died.

“Seriously?” Vera blurted out, afraid no one on the other end of her one-way line noticed. “Search me? For what?”

The man with the machine was unimpressed, and the doors he guarded flew open. “Better safe than sorry, _Vera_ ,” the newcomer announced and she recognized the slimy voice, dripping with poisonous sweetness.

Her eyes snapped up at him. He looked ordinary – she wouldn’t notice him on the streets. A man of an average high and face, expensive business suit. He terrified her. She might even appreciate if he had a scar over half of his face – it would be less scary than his indifference.

“Leave all electronic you find on her here. We’ll do the rest inside,” he smiled at her sympathetically, “we wouldn’t want her to be cold, would we?”

Vera froze. She trusted the Avengers, she really did – but if these people were going to put off her vest, she would become significantly more nervous. And she already was a bundle of nerves. She squeezed her eyes shut as the device hovered inches from her body, scanning her thoroughly.

She almost had a heart attack when the machine started beeping like crazy. She held her breath, but the man just pulled the phone out of her pocket, throwing it away. There was no other sound for the rest of their inspection. She exhaled as the owner of the phone call voice gestured them to come inside.

Vera didn’t expect the wide hallway, with two possible turns in such a short distance. The Man (and she decided to call him the Man, since he seemed to be important and the only other distinctive person was Sergei), lead them to the right, left, left, passing over many doors as he did so, right and then straight forward for a very long time. Men were standing by the walls like guardians. There were _tens_ of them. What kind of a building was that? A military base? Were these people some kind of soldiers going rogue?

They stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall, the Man turning around to face her. “I’m glad you decided to join us. Your _friend_ is behind that door. I would like to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid…” he beckoned to one of the man and she felt his hands on her shoulders. She jumped at the sudden touch. He patted her arms, elbows, forearms. Satisfied, he touched the side of her chest and whistled as he felt something that should be there. Vera cursed internally.

“What?”

The searcher gripped the hem of her tops and raised it high. “She has a bulletproof vest,” he stated the obvious and the Man’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do you expect to need it?” he asked her, offended. _Like hell she didn’t!_ “Where did you get it? You didn’t talk to anyone, did you?” He pulled out a gun from a holster on his back and loaded it as a silent threat.

Vera glared at it in horror. What was she supposed to tell him so he didn’t shoot Matt for her sin? Or her for that matter? “No!”

He examined her, waiting for her excuse.

“I mean…you said it. Better safe than sorry… It’s…from my uncle. He’s a cop. Insisted on giving me one before I left to US,” she was making up as she went, trying not to lie more than necessary. Leaving to US was true, _Clint_ delivered her the vest and she technically did think of him as-

“Hm…” the Man seemed to be considering something and then lighted up like a Christmas tree. “Leave it to her. We want our guest to feel save, right?”

The searcher gave him a consternated look, but obeyed and finished his inspection. He stopped at her boot, gasping. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Vera prayed they wouldn’t get too mad. It was Natasha’s idea – she wanted them to think Vera was ready to fight for her man and she indeed was reckless and naïve, hoping it would let their guard down even more. So she lent Vera her shoes, shoving a small blade in one of them. In its heel. It was cool and everything, but she hated her right now.

Another puzzled expression from the Man. “And this?”

Vera wasn’t able to meet his eyes, feeling them burning with anger. Her hands trembled despite being tied together and fists clenched. Fingers under her chin forced her to look up. His gaze was hard. Cold. He examined her, squinting, glaring into her soul, covering it in darkness and ice. He let go.

“Take it,” he murmured to one of his flunkies and Vera sighed in relief. His voice sounded resigned. “Let’s go.”

He finally opened the door and Vera saw him. Sitting in a heavy looking metallic chair, restrained with weird strong cuffs she never saw before. Outfit black, prove of being taken when patrolling. Muscles tensed, figure slightly leaned forward - only as much as the cuffs allowed him. Black bagging over his head and neck. She frowned at the picture. Why would they give it to him? It was poi-

Painful prod to her back made her to take several steps. Vera wasn’t moving from her own will – she wasn’t stupid. She knew they would stop her if she ran to him – and there was no point. It was not like she could help him.

Matt snapped up his head as she stumbled forwards. Two men standing at his sides yanked the bagging away. Vera gasped and her heart stopped as she saw his bloody face. Steam of blood was making its way down his cheek, more dripping from his nose and mouth. But that wasn’t the worst part. No. It was the _haunted_ look in his sightless eyes.

 _What_ had they done to him?

She only realized she made her way to him when someone yanked her back by her arm.

Solemn words spoken with dangerous severity made her to want to escape whatever threat they represented. _“Don’t touch her.”_

It took her a while to realize that the terrible sound echoing in the room, vibrating in her chest, was coming _from Matt_.

“Mike?” she squeaked, unsure he was even himself. “What _the hell_ did you do to him?”

The grip on her arm tightened. She turned to the Man and noticed the rest of her escort moved back, finding their place in the corner of the room or assuming a position by walls. The two men by Matt’s side walked away too as the Man gestured to them with his gun.

He still had the gun in his hand. _Why?_

“ _Oh please_. He’s fine. For now.”

Cold fingers clenched her heart and windpipe without any physical contact. She couldn’t _breathe_.

“What- what do you mean?” she choked out, her head spinning. “What are you _going to do_ to him?”

_Kill him. We’re going to kill him…_

Vera hadn’t been aware how calm she was before. _Now_ she was really panicking. He had _a gun_. And there were so many men around them and in the hallway. How many of them had a weapon too?

He let go of her arm. “Not much. Not yet. Not when you honoured us with your presence,” he explained, talking to her like to a child, like a parent trying to teach his kid something ridiculously easy for the tenth time.

“Let. Her. Go,” Matt strained through his gritted teeth, fighting his cuffs with no result – they didn’t move an inch.

“Wonderful idea!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide, like welcoming the refreshing thought, smiling delightedly. Then his face fell. “But no. That’s not what we gonna do.”

Few of the onlookers chuckled.

Vera was suddenly sure of his plan. She could read it in Matt’s face. In his haunted look. It made sense - she knew it all along, Natasha thought it as well, but at the moment, it was crystal clear. The realization hit her like a truck. She looked around, finding Sergei smiling with a sad smile. Vera was sure he had lost someone - someone he loved. And if there was _one_ person who would wish for her death, it would be him. Maybe it was even his idea.

“You’re going to kill me,” she deadpanned, startling herself with the flat tone she used. Matt lunging against the restrains, whining with effort, was suddenly the only sound in the room.

“Obviously.”

“I thought so,” she admitted and the Man gave her an incredulous look, eyes wide like finally recognizing the motive of her wearing the gear.

“Seriously? And that’s why you came here with a knife in your boot and a bulletproof vest? Did you think you can save yourself? And him? That’s forward. And very, very naïve...”

“NO!” Matt roared with desperation and tried to stand up harshly without any effect.

Vera knew the very same second that whatever was about to come would hurt. _Really badly_. She squeezed her eyes shut, getting ready for the pain.

She didn’t have enough time. She didn’t have enough _strength_ and _imagination_ to do so.

She wasn’t prepared for the deafening sound and the sharp _agony_ shooting in her thigh. She let out a scream on the top of her lungs and stumbled forwards as her left leg gave up. She felt a push and fell down, slowing down the impact by her cuffed hands. It hurt too.

She ended up on her knees, supporting herself on her palms.

 _Ježiši Kriste._ That- she had no words for it. _Hurt_ didn’t cover it. She didn’t know what it was, but she wanted it to go away _at any cost_ , because it was _unbearable_. Blood buzzed in her ears and blackness embraced the edge of her vision comfortingly.

She mustn’t pass out _now_. She blinked through the tears and gloom, breathing hard. Her thigh was _throbbing_ with gnawing pain. With _agony_.

“You _son of a bitch_. I’ll _kill_ _you_ , I _swear_ I’m gonna-” Vera heard the Devil’s threats distantly, knowing he wouldn’t live them up. He wouldn’t _kill_ anyone – Vera was grateful for that. She might be willing to make an exception for this one, but for now, Matt’s were hands tied – literally.

“Heard that before. No one ever kept that promise…” the man stroked her hair lightly and then pulled her back by them. She didn’t cry out. It didn’t hurt. It couldn’t since the source of all her misery was focused in her leg.

“So. The famous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, metaphorically brought to his knees. His _call girl_ literally on her knees. Murdered right in front of him, so close he can almost reach her, yet he can’t save her. So romantic. So tragic…”

The only reaction he got was Matt jerking violently in his chair, _growling_ as he did so.

“What you’re gonna do when your loved one is gone? Will you keep fighting?”

Through her tears, Vera could see Sergei and his torn face before she looked at Matt again.

“Please, _please_ don’t,” he _begged_. Matt never begged. Not that she know of. “What do you want?! I’ll do anyt-”

“Isn’t that cute? And just stupid? We wanted her here so you could see her die. There’s nothing we want from you.”

“Don’t-”

“Nah. This is just pathetic.” He aimed the gun at her head with a significant click.

Her vision became painfully sharp all of sudden. She felt the barrel of the gun in the back of her skull, the air too cold against her skin, heard Matt’s panting. Someone had a gun on her head again and Matt was right there, unable to move. _We really have to stop meeting like this_ , she wanted to say. There was no chance she would disarm this man though.

The Man’s fingers touched her neck lightly, sliding down, examining the fabric around it. _Don’t you dare, you motherfucker._

“Is that his mask you wear around your neck? That’s sickeningly sweet. And poetic.”

_Where were they? What were they waiting for? … Oh. She had to let Matt know._

“Wait!” she yelled, voice desperate.

“Really? Wait for what? You want to pray or some shit?” the Man mocked her, sounding quite impatient.

“No. I…I want to tell him something first. Please? Just… just let me say goodbye.”

He considered it for a short moment. She thought he might eye Sergei before reacting. “Huh. Okay. That could be fun.”

“Don’t. _Vera_. Please, _don’t_ ,” Matt’s voice was tormented, breaking on her name, saying it for the first time that night. He was on the edge of tears, still vainly attempting to free himself.

_Was he asking the Man not to shoot her or asking her not to say goodbye?_

_“Matt-”_ she whispered, barely audible, but loud enough for his ears.

“Out loud! I wanna hear it!” a male voice, awfully familiar now, yelled from her side madly.

“Okay, okay. Out loud. Sorry.” Dammit, dammit, _dammit_. What now? Think, Vera, _think_. It was a difficult thing to do, when agony wrapped her mind like a scratchy blanket.

 _Think_.

She licked her lips, mouth too dry to speak. Her head felt too heavy for coming up with a way to hide the important message into something inconspicuous.

“ _Mike_ , I wanted to say that I love you. Listen to my _heartbeat_ so you know I am telling you the truth. Listen _very carefully_. Pay attention. You’re letting me _down_. Here, with _all these people around us_. With this man and his company _spying on us_ , watching us with their _hawk’s eyes_.” Okay, that was just lame. Her creativity was rusty.

She continued, mind racing. “I thought that if I came here, you would find a way to resist. You would fight - with your _heart made of steel_. Fight like the _true_ _American hero_. Oh, Mike, I’m disappointed.” And that was a lie – she knew it and he knew it too – but there was the slightest tilt of his head, lips parting, eyes wondering. He got the message. He _listened_ to his surroundings and he knew she hadn’t walked into this alone – and really, give her some credit. She wasn’t _that_ stupid.

All she needed now was to make sure they wouldn’t get smashed – and she really hoped he could swing the chair over, because if he wasn’t... She had to get ready and so did he. “There is only one way _we can go now_. And that’s _down_.”

The very same moment she said the last word, she threw her body on the ground, hearing the gun clack on the floor and a shocked hiss of pain. Her gaze shortly flickered to the direction of the sound – the man who threatened her had an arrow sticking out of his hand. _Good_.

And then the chaos began. Gunshots, weird wheezing and metallic sounds echoing in the whole room, sparks flying from the ceiling, cries of pain sounding from everywhere. Cracking, whining, thuds and landed punches reached her ears. Vera fought the urge to curl up in a ball and squeeze her eyes shut.

She quickly checked on Matt – he was lying on the floor too, _thank god_ , still attached to the chair, frowning from concentration as he was trying to figure out his surroundings. He looked lost. The noise must have been hell for him – she was glad they hadn’t use the sonic grenades.

The idea struck her with no warning. Matt was quite close to her. She could do it. She made her way to him. It was an _exhausting_ thing to do - she had to stay down, basically crawling and with each move, she felt the pain biting her again, the throbbing in her leg getting more intense with each heartbeat.

Matt noticed her actions. “Stay where you are. _Don’t move_ ,” he pleaded in weak voice, still tormented. Vera shook her head - she needed to get to him. He didn’t have his mask. The men uncovered him in front of her, talking about _him_ _seeing_ her die, so there was a thick chance they hadn’t looked at his face properly before that and they had no idea who he was. And the Avengers were busy at the moment.

Vera jerked in his direction once more, twice and she could finally touch him. “Vera!” he hissed, confused and _pissed off_ she wasn’t listening to him. “Don’t move and put the pressure on you wound, for god’s sake!”

 _Not yet_. Her fingers were stiff, trembling with exhaustion – she _was_ losing a lot of blood, she knew it, she could feel her jeans soaking, glued to her skin, smacking the floor whenever she shifted slightly. It hurt so much she wondered how she was still conscious. But she brought her hands up to her neck, uncoiling the cowl. It was difficult with her wrists tied together.

Matt gasped when he realized what she was doing. “ _Vera_.”

“Almost there.”

He gritted his teeth and whined in frustration. “ _Fuck_ the mask. Stop the bleeding. NOW. _Jesus Christ_.”

“ _Blasphemy_ ,” she blurted out when she realized that humour was as good way to forget her pain as any. Her mood had improved rapidly when the Avengers had appeared - new wave of energy (or maybe it was just the adrenalin) washed over her. She completed her mission and carefully placed the mask on his upper face. He stopped fidgeting with a resigned sigh – he comprehended that she wouldn’t stop until his face was covered.

“Great. Now put the pressure to your leg, or I _swear_ -“

“-that you what? Won’t talk to me again? That would be a _shame_ …” she spitted out, insulted by the lack of his gratitude, because _Hello?_ She was only protecting his identity and she had organized a rescue mission! She deserved to be treated better than that!

His jaw clenched with an audible _click_ and Vera realized she could hear it because there was mostly silence around her. She scanned the room. About fifteen men were lying on the ground, bloody, possibly _dead_.

“Well, that was a lovely exchange of opinions. Troubles in paradise, lovebirds?” Stark mocked them, while approaching Matt’s chair, aiming his hi-tech on Matt’s wrists. He was in the Iron Man suit, but his head was no longer hidden. “Hey, aren’t these ours, Rogers? They are bitch to cut… Don’t worry. I’ll try not to burn any flesh,” he exclaimed before some shiny laser fired from his suit, cutting the weird metallic ties restraining Matt.

Matt’s hands immediately shot to her wound. “ _You’re freaking stubborn_ ,” he growled as he pressed hard to reduce her bleeding.

Vera whimpered when sharp pain ran through her whole leg. Sarcasm being her only weapon against her agony, she hissed at Matt: “Birds of a feather flock together.”

She thought she heard Clint snort in amusement. Iron Man cut the cuffs on Matt’s ankles and freed her wrists as well. Matt was at Vera’s side in no time, keeping the pressure like his life depended on it. Well, _hers_ probably did. The world around her started fading away, darkness surrounding her sneakily as the adrenalin wasn’t enough to keep her awake anymore.

Steve entered her field of vision, squatting at her side. “Let’s get you out of here. Devil, I’ll take it from-”

 _“NO,”_ Matt protested loudly, sliding his arms under her body, lifting her from the ground. Her head spun from the movement.

“Devil, be reasonable. You’re injured. I can carry her _and_ keep the pressure with no difficulties, preventing even bigger blood loss. I promise I’ll look after her like after my own,” Steve spoke to him in convincing authoritative voice that permitted no objections. Also, he probably wasn’t lying, so that helped. Matt let Steve to take her in his arms reluctantly, not leaving their side. Steve pressed to her wound again with hummed apology. Something close to cry escaped her lips.

Warm hand squeezed her fingers – Vera found its owner, surprised to identify Natasha, smiling at her reassuringly. “You’re doing great, Vera. As a member of the stronger half of human kind – women – I can tell you I am very proud of you. You should too.” Vera would, once she knew how to feel anything else than agony.

Natasha let go of Vera’s hand and the group worked their way through the complicated labyrinth of halls. They were crossing bodies lying on the ground. Vera closed her eyes, not wanting to see it and wondered, whether any of them was still alive. Swinging finely in Steve’s arms, darkness embracing her, she was falling asleep.

A tender touch on her cheek. “Vera, can you hear me?” a male voice asked her and she grumbled, wanting to rest without disturbing, when the pain finally went away. “Vera, open your eyes for me, please.”

Hand slapping her face lightly. She hummed in displeasure, turning her head, escaping the touch. She opened her eyes as the man desired. Oh. He looked vaguely familiar. She squinted at him, trying to figure out who he was.

She was lying on a mattress - no swinging anymore. Soft mechanical humming reached her ears.  She felt funnily numb. She had trouble to find her arms, legs, head. Her whole body was strangely swimming, unsure it belonged to her. The man’s face hovered over her and she realized she _had_ met him before.

“-ctor Banner?”

The man nodded. “Yes. How do you feel?”

Someone was sitting by her head, caressing her hair gently. It was a nice feeling. She eyed the source of her pleasure and saw the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen with the corners of his lips turned down. Right. The rescue mission. She got shot. That sucked. He seemed quite okay though, no blood visible anymore. They won. She smiled contentedly.

“Vera?” His lips moved, mouthing her name. _Answer the question._

“I’m good. Kinda… kinda under water… but better than under weather. And I’m not… under ground, so…” her brain managed to come up with a lame joke and Matt sighed. Another hand patted her arm.

“I really like her. She has an excellent sense of humour,” she heard a distant male voice, but she didn’t care about it. She had Matt by her side – alive -, she was living even though not exactly kicking and that was all she needed.

When the Devil placed the lightest kiss on her forehead, she was practically in heaven. Or hell. It didn’t matter as long as he followed her there.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a while to write. Huh. Also, RIP Sergei. No, he didn’t survive in case you’re wondering.
> 
> Sorry for the lack of the Avengers action etc. It's just a tiny involvement of the _big guys_ O:-)
> 
> Title from Florence and The Machine – Never let me go


	31. 25)  I feel so much better now…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How did you even do that?”  
> “Did what?”  
> “Lied to me. You lied to me and I didn’t notice. How?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, there is a short **coda/sidefic/whatever** , set after the previous chapter - you can read it right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160809
> 
> I decided to post it as a different story, because it deserved few different tags.

Vera’s body was heavy and surprisingly light at the same time. She actually felt better than when she was usually getting up. It was going to be a good day, she could tell. She blinked several times, her eyelids listening to her command lazily.

Huh. That ceiling she didn’t know. It wasn’t the white ceiling of her bedroom in NY. Or her bedroom in Czechia for that matter. And it wasn’t a hospital room, which shouldn’t have crossed her mind, but hey – she already had spent some time in a hospital room since she had moved in New York. It wouldn’t be such a surprise.

Light breeze tickled her cheek. She subconsciously turned in its direction and her breath hitched, her heart fluttering at the image she saw. Matt, forearms folded under his chin on her pillow, was sleeping peacefully. His position must have been really uncomfortable though – sitting on a chair next to her bed, stretched so his head was inches from hers. She bit her lip so she didn’t chuckle and wake him up.

With the power of her will, she tore her gaze away and examined the room she was in – it looked kinda like a hospital room. A blurry one. A fancy one. Windows instead of two walls, with Venetian blinds, very expensive machines next to her bed – luckily none of those attached to hers or Matt’s body. At the night stand, there was a case with contacts. In the back of her mind, she realized she probably was in the Avengers Tower. Because _rescue mission_. Bored with the room, she returned to watching Matt – him, she could see sharply at least.

The memory of his bloody face flickered in front of her eyes. Remembering the sources of his bleeding, she eyed the spots. There was no sign of an injury - if she wasn’t where she was, she might consider yesterday a terrible nightmare. No blood, no splits, no lacerations, no bruises. Just contentedly closed eyelids, growing stubble and lips begging to be kissed. It physically ached her not to do it when they were so close.

A small peck on his lips? It wouldn’t wake him up... _Oh god, she had no self-control._

Vera gave him the lightest kiss she managed and withdraw instantly. The lips formed a sleepy smile.

He was smiling in his sleep, right? He had a nice dream- and his eyes opened.

“Sakra!” she cursed under her breath and his smile widened.

“Hey,” he responded to her unusual greeting, most likely well-aware it was not a greeting.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up. I swear I didn’t.”

His eyes closing again, he raised his eyebrow. “Why not? You’re awake. That’s what I was waiting for.”

Happily discovering she had no i.v. input, she ran her hand through his hair. Not that she was checking once again whether there was any injury. It just felt nice. Or maybe both.

“How do you feel?” she wanted to know, attentively examining his face again. She couldn’t see any other part of his body, so…

His eyes snapped open. “How do I feel?” he parroted, traces of disbelief in his voice _. Oh-oh. Bad idea. Back pedal, back pedal._ He sighed and leaned back into his chair, his breath no longer tickling her cheek. She missed it. Also, the picture of him wasn’t so sharp anymore.

“Well, you’re the one who got kidnapped or something like that and I myself feel like really good – I’m serious,” Vera reassured him and grinned mentally, realizing he would know she was telling the truth. Aha!

She _was_ feeling great. She had gotten shot and she was feeling _great_. That must have been some high-quality drugs she had been given. She was frustrated by the lack of her vision though – she reached for the case, trying out the lenses from it experimentally – they were hers. She wasn’t even shocked anymore.

Matt was showing her his most dubious and confused expression mixed into one. He was probably wondering about the same things she did.

He shrugged. “I’m okay.”

As he was leaning into the chair, she could see he was still wearing his vigilante outfit. If it was bloody, she didn’t notice it. There was something else wrong about him. She couldn’t figure out what.

And then it hit her. There was one thing missing. She didn’t mind, but they were in the Avengers Tower. Didn’t they have cameras here? Like everywhere? Or at least the Stark’s A.I.?

Vera frowned at him. “You don’t wear your mask.”

Matt shook his head hesitantly, looking somewhat guilty. “There is no need.”

It took her few moments to process the information. It could only mean one thing. “You told them who you are.”

He didn’t say anything and his silence was an answer on its own. It saddened her. She tried really hard to keep his identity a secret. She might have even achieved that.

“I tried to keep it a secret,” she reproached him, too disappointed to be actually angry.

His eyes hardened. “I know,” he hissed and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Vera wondered if he counted to ten in his head – it looked like he did. Was _he_ mad? “And I do appreciate your effort, but I rather knew you can get your priorities straight, _in the right order_.”

Her frown deepened. _In the right order?_ She didn’t know how to react to his exclaim. She didn’t know what he meant.

He broke the silence again, voice scarily weak. “Just in case you wonder – keeping my identity secret from them? Deeply below _keeping you alive_.”

 _Oh_. Yeah. Putting his mask on when she should have pressed against her wound might have looked like a dick move. But he had been so close to her! It only had taken few moments… She had been the one bringing the Avengers to him, so she had been the one who needed to fix that.

And _oh_ again - something warm was spreading in her chest, when she realized what he said. She still remained silent.

“How did you do that?” he demanded, whispering, outraged for whatever reason she didn’t understand.

“Did what?” she asked him, baffled once again. Seriously. How did she do what?

“Lied to me,” Matt accused her, sounding hurt, “you lied to me and _I didn’t notice_. How?!” He pursed his lips. He seemed offended. _Betrayed_. By her or by his personal polygraph?

“When did I lie to you?”

“When you… after you… _donated_ your blood. You told me you wouldn’t try to save me if your life was in danger. You said you knew it was safe back then and that’s why you did it. _This_ wasn’t safe. It was _far_ from safe actually. It was as far from it as I can imagine.”

Vera considered his words. What she had done was not the safest way, he had a point, but it was probably the only way. And it hadn’t _that_ bad. Avengers, _freaking Avengers_ , who had stopped _an alien attack,_ had been with her. Well-aware it would piss him off, she explained her train of thoughts.

“You’re not very creative then. Matt, _they_ were with me. My life wasn’t in danger.” Maybe just a little. She had been terrified during the mission, she wouldn’t deny it, terrified for him _and_ for herself. But she was sure the Avengers wouldn’t let the Man shoot her. Shoot her dead, that was.

Matt grinded his teeth, but didn’t oppose her.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re not gonna fight me over it?”

Matt faced the ceiling, demanding the attention of God, pleading him to give him strength. Then he looked at her again. “No, I won’t. It’s like talking to a brick wall. _Thank you_ for saving me, -”

“If you’re gonna say: _but for god’s sake, don’t do it again_ , you can save your breath, you know…”

He paused, biting his cheek from inside. She knew him so well. “-for saving me and for your attempts to protect my secret. Now, if you would be so kind to let me finish…”

 _Huh_. Vera tilted her head, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t come in the form of words. His body bent down, mouthing ‘ _and let me kiss you’_.

Matt’s lips met hers lightly, tenderly caressing them, careful fingers tracing the features of her face. She smiled and returned his purest declaration of love. She missed his lips. The taste, the shape, the way it fitted hers. There had been a certain period she hadn’t known if they would ever met hers again. The memory of it made her hand shot up to the back of his head, pulling him closer, just because _she could_ and _he was there_ , his mouth welcoming her, sucking her upper lip suddenly playfully, delightedly, because they were both here _. Alive_.

A very loud group of people (well, people…) stumbled in the room.

“CALL GIRL LIVES!” the male voice Vera believed belonged to Tony Stark shouted, the sound echoing in the large space repeatedly.

Matt lips froze and he withdrew just slightly. “ _Do not_ call her that,” he strained through his teeth, irritated. Vera had a hunch they might have discussed that topic earlier.

“I love you,” she whispered to his lips before he leaned back.

“Oh, my eyes! I’m blind! And traumatized for life! _I’m blind_!” Tony complained, turning around, covering his eyes with his palm and Vera saw Natasha elbowing his ribs. 

“Not funny in this case, Stark…” she huffed as she prodded him again.

“ _Please_. It’s hilarious. And their inappropriate behaviour is not my fault.”

Vera, knowing Matt wouldn’t be offended by Stark’s inappropriate joke, grinned widely. “Really, Stark? That kiss was the biggest action you saw lately? You need to get laid. Do you want me to explain how birds and bees work before you do?”

Tony spun back on his heels, facing her with a mask of disbelief. Doctor Banner looked away, mouth hanging slightly open, Natasha bit her lip and Steve gave her a crooked smile. Matt had a smug – or was it pride what see saw? – grin on his face saying ‘ _that’s my girl’_.

And Hawkeye… jogged to her bedside and raised his hand to high five her. Vera gladly did. _She just high-fived with Hawkeye!_

Tony gaped at her as they all approached them. “Unbelievable. That’s what you get for helping pretty girls who come _crying_ to your door, asking for your help under _false pretence_ , introducing themselves with _fake name_. I’ll let it slide this time. See what a wonderful person I am?”

Vera hoped he was still joking, because otherwise she would have to feel ashamed. Matt took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. He certainly wasn’t ashamed of her.

“I’m sorry, Mr.Stark. You _are_ a wonderful person with many qualities. I am very grateful to you and I owe you an immeasurable favour you can withdraw anytime.”

Once again, he just gaped silently which gave somebody else an opportunity to talk.

“How do you feel, Vera?” doctor Banner asked, being a professional.

“Great, actually. What kind of a magic do you have? I didn’t examine the wound but I don’t even feel it,” she admitted, realizing it was the truth. Despite not feeling any pain, she didn’t feel under water. Her mind was clear. Were the pain-meds that good?

He smiled at her kindly too. “It’s the new tech. Your leg is almost healed. I wouldn’t recommend running a marathon, kicking anyone or offering yourself to be a decoy any time soon-“

“ _Try ever_ ,” Matt growled lowly, tightening his grip.

“-but you should make a full recovery soon.”

“A full recovery?” she repeated incredulously. “Soon? From _a bullet_?”

“From a bullet _hitting your femoral artery_ , yes. You rock. _Atta girl_ ,” Natasha confirmed and Matt shot her a murderous glare, crushing Vera’s hand in his.

Vera blushed at the compliment. _Another compliment from the Black Widow_. Considering she hadn’t really like the Avengers before, the pride of knowing them and acting casually in their presence made her chest filled with the weirdest feeling.

“Thank you. All of you. I would never be able to… not without you. Thank you for everything,” Vera expressed her gratitude, observing each of their faces and looking into their eyes for a while so they knew she meant it.

Steve placed his huge palm on her shoulder. “You did most of the work.”

And that was a terrible, _terrible_ lie. Also, Matt’s gaze was burning through Steve’s hand, so he quickly removed it and hid it behind his back as if he was worried he might lose it due to Matt’s possessiveness and temper at the moment.

“Thank you, captain Rogers.” Calling him _Steve_ was much easier in her mind than out loud. Just like _Tony_ , _Natasha_ , _Bruce_ and _Clint_.

 _Steve,_ he mouthed without a sound and Vera suspected that not even Matt registered that.

Doctor Banner cleared his throat. “Uhm. I brought your phone. It wouldn’t stop buzzing. Someone called _Terri_ tried to reach you like-,” he looked at the phone and terror must have appeared in Vera’s eyes because Hawkeye chuckled, “-thirty-seven times. Friend of yours?”

“Yeaaaah. She knows about my little adventure… she’s probably worried sick. ”

“You can send her a self-photo with us. So she knew you’re alright,” Steve offered shyly and Vera actually found it a great idea – if they were willing to do it. But Matt would have to hide. Or at least change his clothes.

“It’s a _selfie_ , Stevie…” Natasha patted his back patronizingly, “but nice try. You want to?”

Vera shrugged, not giving away the excitement at the idea to anyone than Matt, who would know it due to her heartbeat and… whatever he could sense. It would be nice to have a memory. Apart from her memory.

“If you’re willing to. But she doesn’t know about Matt being… not Matt. So he has to wear a mask or change.”

“Well, maybe we should all wear our gear…” Hawkeye offered unsurely.

“No!” Vera blurted out before she could stop herself. “I… I would like to take a civil photo. Just for me. And her. To remember your help. Meeting _amazing people_. Not the Avengers. I mean, Avengers are cool and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is cool, but-“

She saw Hawkeye grinning brilliantly as Matt stroke her hand and gave her palm a light kiss. “Of course you would,” he said softly and _screw the Avengers_ , he kissed her right on her mouth affectionately. _Hell yes._

She kissed him back enthusiastically and heard someone take a picture of them as she did. Her cheeks burned. It didn’t bother her that much though – she had better things to think of. Like-

Doctor Banner coughed tactfully. Vera mentally whined when Matt’s lips disappeared. “So… one photo with covering his outfit and one, uhm, _spontaneous_?”

“ _Please_. I can take care of it _in seconds_. Let’s just take the damn picture,” Stark noted, apparently offended.

“Huh, could you take care of my face too? I probably look like crap…” Vera mumbled and Natasha’s lips twitched.

“Sure, _call girl_ ,” he confirmed and stuck his tongue out like a five-year old.

Vera rolled her eyes and smiled to the phone as they all gathered around her to make it to the picture.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. It’s over! I mean _epilogue_ and then it’s over. I have few ideas in my head though; I feel sorry they didn’t make it here, so I might write some one-chapter moments later? 
> 
> Title from Rhodes - Better


	32. … do you feel like you feel alive? (Epilogue - snapshots)

The photo she took with the Avengers and sent to Terri actually started even madder attempts to reach Vera’s phone, so she had to call Terri back.

“DID YOU JUST SEND ME A SELFIE WITH THE AVENGERS?!” Terri cried out to the phone and Vera had to put some distance between her ear and the phone, because she liked her hearing too much.

“Yes, she did,” Matt reassured her.

“OH MY GOD.”

“Hi, Terri,” Tony and Clint greeted her unison and she squeaked.

“Who said that?”

“Hawkeye and Iron Man,” Vera hummed and Terri gasped.

“I think I am gonna pass out now…”

\---

Armed with crutches, Vera was actually free to go. Both her and Matt received some clean clothes and a car with a driver who would take them home. Matt timidly asked her whether he could stay with her, so they headed to her apartment.

On their way, he called Foggy to let him know he was alright – his friend sounded pretty angry with Matt for not letting him know earlier, but offered him his traditional honour chair at Nelson’s family table for Thanksgiving dinner forgivingly. Vera didn’t even realize it was Thanksgiving – she had other things to worry about and it wasn’t like she was going to celebrate it anyway.

“I… I think I will have to politely decline this year,” Matt answered hesitantly and Vera eyed him, surprised. Did he not feel good? He had told her and Foggy he did. He _seemed_ to be alright.

 _“You’re injured, right? Hey, if you can handle it and you just look like shit, we can figure something out. My mum would love to see you, you know,”_ Foggy’s persuasive voice negotiated from the speaker and Vera smiled. It sounded like even though Matt didn’t have a mother (either dead or distant), he might have scored another woman who would treat him as if he was her own son.

Matt was reconsidering, staring at the front blankly. “Actually, it’s… it’s not about me. Vera was shot.”

 _“What?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me? How is she? Is she gonna be okay?”_ Vera could hear him more clearly now – he was _loud_. And she found it really sweet that he cared.

Matt faced her. “ _See? That’s a proper reaction to you being shot!_ ” he hissed and returned his attention back to Foggy. “Better. They have some advanced technology, it helped a lot, but she still can’t walk very well. I’d like to stay with her.”

Vera frowned. She was touched by his attentiveness, but the dinner kinda sounded like a big deal. And it was _once a year_ , he shouldn’t miss it.  She shook her head rapidly. “Don’t worry about me. _Go_. It’s Thanksgiving, Matt. I can tell it’s important.”

Matt titled his head. “Do you have plans?” he asked, suddenly unsure as if she hadn’t agree with him coming to her place earlier and as if she could have plans with the small souvenir she had received from the rescue mission.

“No.”

“Do you mind me staying with you?”

“Of course not!” she protested, offended. And she totally made a mistake, because she basically backed up his refusal. “ _Matt_.”

He took her hand in his, stroking its back lightly. Foggy patiently waited on the other end of the line.

Matt cleared his throat. “So yeah. I’d like to stay with her. Should I call your mum to apologize personally?”

_“Nah. I’ll explained it to her… or you know, give her the short harmless version. She’ll be sad, but she’ll live – if you promise to come for Christmas instead. Me? I won’t be that easy. Dammit, Matty, freaking Avengers saved you ass-“_

Vera didn’t think she deserved much credit, but she deserved _some of it_ , alright? She coughed tactfully at his words, loud enough for him to hear it and the corners of Matt’s lips twitched. Or was he _Matty?_

_“-and your amazing girlfriend, your knight in shining armour, who got hurt in the battle for her favourite damsel in distress. Respect and all that. Please tell me you got me Cap’s signature, buddy. Or you got some cute souvenir from the Avengers tower, I don’t know, Iron Man’s glove or something. Come on, Matty-boy. Tell me you made me proud.”_

Matt sighed, while Vera smiled contentedly as his cheeks slightly blushed and he quickly ended the call with incomprehensible mumbling. She squeezed his hand, pecking him on his cheek.

“Don’t worry. We both know who’s the real hero in this story. It sure ain’t me. And I know you did everything you could to protect me. Foggy’s just jealous.” She rested her head against his shoulder and he gently kissed her hair.

 “Of me meeting the Avengers or of me having you?”

\---

So, Matt stayed. Once they reached the apartment, he carried her to the bedroom despite her protests and that pretty much settled the tone of their next days. Matt took a day off on Friday (or _made_ a day off…?), while Vera didn’t have to worry about her job; it turned out that Mr. Stark had taken care of that.

Mrs. Walker called Vera on Friday morning, absolutely shocked, talking about Mr. Stark showing up at MDDC, stack of papers with himself and a sincere apology on his lips. Apparently, Vera had been in the area close to the Avengers Tower when a small unexpected incident had happened while testing some of their new tech and she had gotten hurt, so she couldn’t come to work for a few days (at least a week), because she would be recovering. Between the papers, there was also a cheque to compensate any possible financial losses and troubles connected to Vera’s absence and Mrs. Walker sounded so astonished with whatever sum was on the cheque and enchanted by Tony that Vera actually worried about her health when she heard her hyperventilating.

Vera was shocked by herself – she definitely didn’t see that coming. She called him after – because she had all of their numbers now, just in case, and Matt did too – thanking him. She could imagine his fake modesty and self-satisfied smile when she heard his voice. But hey, he was entitled.

\---

Another surprise appeared at Vera’s door. Friday afternoon, someone knocked on her door, Matt sitting up attentively, before his lips spread in a wide smile.

“What?” she demanded as she stumbled to her feet.

Still smiling mysteriously, he shook his head and remained silent, putting his glasses on. Taking her crutches, she made her way to the door, Matt following her in short distance, but far enough for not to be seen when she opened the door.

A girl about her age – perhaps a little older – huge and wide eyes, nervous smile somewhat familiar, held two plates covered with aluminium foil. Vera had no idea who she was and what was she doing at her doorstep. Perhaps she got the wrong door? If the way she observed Vera, confused, was anything to go by…

“Uhm. Hi. I’m Maria? Mrs. Larkin’s daughter?” she said hesitantly and Vera suddenly realized why her smile felt familiar. Her lips spread widely too.

“Hi! I’m Vera, nice to meet you!” She awkwardly manipulated the crunches, leaning one of them onto the wall – it would fell down if Matt’s invisible hand didn’t catch it – offering the girl a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you too. You okay? Mum didn’t mention you’re… uhm…” Maria let go her hand and gestured vaguely in the direction of her walking aids.

Right. She didn’t know. “Uh, yeah. I was… clumsy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Anyway, mum sends you some leftovers from yesterday, claiming you had to try out her Thanksgiving turkey, so…”

She was obviously torn and embarrassed, not sure how to hand her the plates, probably wondering whether she should come inside.

And of course, Matt saved them both. “Vera?” he approached her from behind, showing himself as if he came from inside of the flat and hadn’t been standing inches from the door the whole time. “It’s every-“

“Yes!” she turned his face to him, graciously ignoring Maria’s silent surprised gasp as she saw him. “Maria, this is my boyfriend, Matt Murdock. Matt, Maria Larkin, Nina’s daughter. She was so kind to bring us some leftovers.”

God, that was weird. He heard all of that and he would hear it even if he was blocks away and she had to explain it to him like he hadn’t know what was this about sooner than she did.

“Oh. Hello,” he smiled charmingly and extended his hand as well. “Nice to meet you.”

Maria was not so subtly gaping, accepting his hand and shaking it as well. “Hi.”

Vera wanted to face-palm. Badly.

“Maria, could you please give the plates to him? The food would not survive in my hands and that would be a real shame.”

Maria nodded frantically. “Sure. Of course, Uhm… here, yes. And here. I’ll see you around, Vera. _Oh goddammit, see..._ Uhm, mum is passing on her greetings and I quote: ‘Don’t be a stranger and stop by.’ I’ll let her know that it might be a little more complicated now. So, yeah,” she babbled and Vera could both hear Matt’s silent chuckling and see his chest vibrating peripherally.

“ _Thank you_ , Maria. I understood that you are staying for a while? It would be a pleasure to get to know you better. Nina talks about you a lot. Please, send her my gratitude. And welcome home.”

Maria nodded several times, spun on her heels and disappeared down the hall quickly.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all…”

\---

Since Matt decided (after asking politely of course, lips maybe too close to hers) to occupy her flat for whole weekend, Vera used the opportunity of having the most reliable taste-tester at her hand. She had to do _something_ when she was at home anyway.

So she charged Terri with a difficult task. Vera’s friend stopped by on Friday evening to interrogate her about the rescue mission and once again question her _relationship_ with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. (Vera tactfully left out the fact she met him in her door as Matt was leaving home for some of his stuff – meaning coming home just to change and hit the streets and the bad people who might walk them.)

Terri was asked to buy multiple organic products for Vera to finish the Christmas sweets. She called Vera on Saturday morning, bickering about the wide choice and not understanding shit about it, complaining why the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t doing her shopping instead of Vera’s poor friend (and Vera had to silence Matt’s laugh with a pillow when he heard that – he had come back from his patrol coming straight to her apartment at some point during last night, now lying in her bed next to her), since he was the reason she got hurt in the first place (Matt didn’t laugh at that – Vera had to check up on him, afraid she might have suffocated him – but no, he just fell silent and wore an expression of pure misery and guilt).

Terri wasn’t surprised when she found Matt in her flat later in the morning, bringing the requested merchandise. She whispered to Vera she was glad Matt was here, that she was hoping he knew the truth about her another little adventure and that he was letting the Devil know that Vera was Matt’s girlfriend and _screw the vigilante, she was with Matt_. Matt excused himself, escaping to the bedroom, returning only after Terri left. His lips were still twitching. Vera didn’t think she ever saw him so content.

With Matt sitting at the table with her, listening to the carols and songs in the background, paying attention to Matt’s occasional narrations of college stories, she glued the sweets together and decorated. Matt had mostly the role of the taster, but sometimes he helped. It was so incredibly domestic and _ordinary_ afternoon Vera would forget she was there with a person who ran around the neighbourhood saving lives. It reminded her the ‘thank you’ note from Nat and her ruminating over humanity – no matter what the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was doing and was capable of, he was _human_. Just a guy. A really amazing guy.

“ _Oh god no_ ,” he groaned out of blue and almost caused Vera a heart attack.

“What? What is it?” she demanded, startled. It was already dark outside – she suspected something shady was happening.

He groaned again. “It’s the song! The one I finally got from my head!” he complained and Vera sighed in relief, putting away her decorating gear. She listened to the song and grinned. She knew it well.

“Oh. I feel you. It’s catchy as hell. And you don’t even understand the lyrics.”

“What is it about?” he asked, honestly curious.

“Fishes. Czech traditional Christmas meal is carp. Some families buy it alive, long before the Christmas Eve and they breed it in their bathtub, let it swim and all that jazz.”

“And then they kill it?”

“Yeaaah,” she admitted unwillingly, understanding his baffled expression.

“That’s _wicked_.”

“KInda. We don’t do that. Anyway, the song is pretty much a conversation between two fishes, one of them is narrating her experience from last Christmas with some family, singing about how amazing it was, how they cared about her, about the Christmas atmosphere and everything. She complains that it was disappointing that they didn’t invite her over to the dinner and released her instead. The other fish is persuading her that celebrating in their lake is much better. ‘Cause you know, she doesn’t say it out loud, but the other fish was really lucky to survive… Why are you smiling like that?”

He was watching her, lips twitching in amusement, eyes shining. “You’re absolutely in love with this song, aren’t you?”

“Hey, you’re the one who complained! ...And stop attacking the crescent rolls or there will be none of them for actual Christmas!”

\---

As far as Vera knew, mail wasn’t delivered on Sunday. Not in Czechia, not in the US either. This time, Matt wasn’t delighted by the visitor – he could tell the person behind the door was nervous, sweating and breathing hard, but he also knew that the boy (and Vera thought it was a boy, judging by his voice demanding the main door opened for him) was telling the truth. Vera let him in the building, bewildered, and wanted to make her way to the door – Matt stopped her, walking there by himself.

Maybe, just maybe, he was being a little paranoid.

He opened the door right before the boy could knock – Vera, sitting in the kitchen, trying to get at least a look on the newcomer, saw the boy’s hand fell down.

“Can I help you?” Matt asked politely, but with a hint of a threat in his voice audible.

He could be intimidating when he wanted – he wasn’t in his suit (Devil’s or the lawyering one), but he did wear a shirt that was pretty tight, his muscular arms well-defined, and jeans, glasses keeping his true expression secret.

The poor boy seemed to hesitate. “I’m sorry. I have a registered letter for Veronica Machackova? Is she… is she at home?”

Matt’s posture visibly relaxed – the boy must have been telling the truth again.

“Yeeeah. That’s me. You need a signature?” she yelled from the kitchen, slowly getting up.

The guy noticed her for the first time. “Oh. Yeah, actually. Mr. Stark would kill me if it fell into the wrong hands. You have an ID, please?”

_Stark? Oh god, that could not be good._

Vera groaned when she had to walk – limp (it wasn’t like the leg really hurt her – it was more of a strange pulling whenever she moved in wrong way) – for her handbag first, both men watching her patiently. She made her way to the door, smiling apologetically – the boy wore the same expression.

“Sorry,” she handed him the ID, “where do you need me to sign?”

He nodded few times as he checked it and showed her, delivering the letter and escaping from the evil man who _welcomed_ him at the door.

“This can’t be good,” Vera wondered out loud as Matt grabbed her crutches, putting them away and took her in his arms. She yelped. She always did. His expression cleared when she let out the noise of surprise again. He seated her on the couch this time, sitting next to her.

Vera examined the envelope with suspicion. It seemed innocent – just a regular envelope. Delivered on Sunday afternoon. She carefully tore it, not wanting to damage its content.

Her heart sped up when she saw the picture, quickly turning it around as if someone was watching over her shoulder. Matt, glasses off already, raised his eyebrow.

“What is it?”

Vera bit her lip and looked at it again. She felt her cheeks blush furiously, embarrassed at the memory. They _saw_ them at the moment. _Šmarja_.

It was a photo from the hospital-not-hospital room - Matt was leaning into her space very closely, meeting her lips passionately, mouth slightly open, Vera answering his kiss with too much enthusiasm. _Oh god_. She never checked her phone gallery for this one. And Stark sent that to her. Printed A4 format.

Matt cleared his throat impatiently. Right. “Uhm. It’s a photo.”

“I figured.”

“Uhm… from Thursday morning. Someone took a picture of us… kissing,” she admitted, fidgeting.

“Is it bad?” Matt asked her, suddenly amused.

“No! I mean…” she look at the picture again – it wasn’t bad. It was actually a nice photo. Just a little inappropriate? “Just… too intimate?”

His fingers traced her burning cheek, a brilliant smile on his lips, sparks in his eyes. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, yeah, I heard. But I thought it was the onlookers who get uncomfortable, not the kissed person.”

She huffed. “Well, _I wasn’t_. Not at the moment…. forget it.” Her gaze fell down, shy. There was one more picture. It was the selfie. And it was _awesome_.

Doctor Banner wasn’t delighted by taking the photo. Natasha… looked pretty. Tony grimaced (of course) while Clint seemed to be smiling honestly. Steve wore a neutral expression, eyes too serious, righteousness radiating for him even when being photographed. Matt was… Matt. His lips formed Vera’s favourite smile – the one she had once decided to call _I-love-you_ smile. _Happiness_ , _awe_ _and_ _tenderness_. Tony indeed replaced his black undershirt for a regular shirt he usually wore to work. He probably also kept his promise to fix Vera’s face, because she looked just fine.

Light pressure under her chin made her to look up. She was welcomed by the very same smile she saw on the photo, so she kissed those amazing lips gingerly, realizing she was happier than ever. Few tears escaped her eyes as Matt whispered _I love you_ to her mouth.

“You okay?” he whispered, hints of alarm in his voice.

The corners of her lips shot up. “Yeah. Yeah… I just… I feel…”

“Happy?” he suggested, caressing her lips and she shook her head. He patiently waited for her to finish her sentence, glaring into her eyes intensively, before he kissed her again.

“ _Alive_.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Dammit._ That’s it. Thank you so, _so much_ for reading, kudos an commenting. Kudos to you ♥
> 
> One of the cutest and most beautiful Christmas songs: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dq0-pRqWniY
> 
> Title from Rhodes – Better

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go. My first Daredevil (it might not seem like it in the few following chapters, but we’ll get there, I swear) fanfiction. It’s also my first fic in like 5 years and on top of that my very first English-written story and let me tell you, it’s HARD. And SLOW. I apologize for any grammar errors and nonsenses.


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